-<£*-/£xl-. 

7 


With  a  stifled  cry,  he  sprang  forward  to  rescue  her,  for  the  alpenstock  had 
slipped  on  a  stone,  and  she  was  rolling  down  the  steep  incline  —Page  33. 

Hardy  Norseman. 


tttt.  fit  CALIF.  LIBRARY,   LOS  AUGBLES 

A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 


BY  EDNA  LYALL, 

Author  of  "Donovan,"  "In  the  O  olden  Days,"  "Knight  Errant" 
"We  Two,"  "Won  by  Waiting,"  etc.,  etc. 


NEW  YORK: 
A.  L.  BURT,  PUBLISHER. 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 


CHAPTER  I. 

"You  say  your  things  are  all  ready,  Cecil?  Then  I'll 
just  go  below  and  do  up  my  Gladstone,  and  put  it  in  your 
cabin.  We  shall  be  at  Bergen  before  long,  they  say. " 

The  speaker  was  a  young  Englishman  of  three  or  four 
and  twenty,  and  the  sister  addressed  by  him  was  still  in  the 
first  flush  of  girlhood,  having  but  a  few  days  before  cele- 
brated her  nineteenth  birthday. 

"  Let  me  see  to  your  bag,  Roy,"  she  exclaimed.  "  It 
is  a  shame  that  you  should  miss  this  lovely  bit  of  the  fjord, 
and  I  shall  doit  in  half  the  time." 

"  The  conceit  of  women  !  "  he  exclaimed,  with  a  smile 
in  which  brotherly  love  and  the  spirit  of  teasing  were 
about  equally  blended.  "  No,  no,  Cis,  I'm  not  going  to 
let  you  spoil  me.  I  shall  be  up  again  in  ten  minutes. 
Have  you  not  made  any  friends  here  ?  Is  there  no  one 
on  deck  you  can  talk  to  ?  " 

' '  I  don't  want  to  talk, "  said  Cecil.  ' '  Truth  to  tell,  I  am 
longing  to  get  away  from  all  these  English  people.  Very 
unsociable  of  me,  isn't  it  ?  " 

Roy  Boniface  turned  away  with  a  smile,  understanding 
her  feeling  well  enough,  and  Cecil,  with  her  back  to  the 
chattering  tourist  throng,  let  her  eyes  roam  over  the  shin- 
ing waters  of  the  fjord  to  the  craggy  mountains  on  the 
farther  shore,  whose  ever-varying  forms  had  been  delight- 
ing her  since  the  early  morning. 

She  herself  made  a  fair  picture,  though  her  beauty  was 
not  of  the  order  which  quickly  draws  attention.  There 
was  nothing  very  striking  in  her  regular  features,  fair  com- 
plexion, and  light-brown  hair  ;  to  a  casual  observer  she 
would  have  seemed  merely  an  average  English  girl,  gentle, 
well-mannered,  and  nice-looking.  It  was  only  to  those 

2136910 


4  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN". 

who  took  pains  to  study  her  that  her  true  nature  was 
revealed  ;  only  at  times  that  her  quiet  gray  eyes  would  flash 
into  sudden  beauty  with  the  pleasure  of  meeting  with 
some  rare  and  unexpected  sympathy  ;  only  in  some 
special  need  that  the  force  of  her  naturally  retiring  nature 
made  itself  felt  as  a  great  influence. 

Cecil  had  passed  a  year  of  emancipated  girlhood,  she 
had  for  a  whole  year  been  her  own  mistress,  had  had 
time  and  money  at  her  disposal  and  no  special  duties  to 
take  the  place  of  her  school-work.  It  was  '.he  time  she 
had  been  looking  forward  to  all  her  life,  the  blissful  time 
of  grown-up  freedom,  and  now  that  it  had  come  it  had 
proved  a  disappointing  illusion.  Whether  the  fault  was  in 
herself  or  in  her  circumstances  she  did  not  know  ;  but  like 
so  many  girls  of  her  age  she  was  looking  out  on  life 
with  puzzled  eyes,  hardly  knowing  what  it  was  that  had 
gone  amiss,  yet  conscious  of  a  great  want,  of  a  great 
unrest,  of  a  vague  dissatisfaction  which  would  not  be 
reasoned  down. 

"  Cecil  is  looking  poorly,"  had  been  the  home  verdict  ; 
and  the  mother,  not  fully  understanding  the  cause,  but 
with  a  true  instinct  as  to  the  remedy,  had  suggested  that 
the  brother  and  sister  should  spend  a  month  abroad,  griev- 
ing to  lose  Cecil  from  the  usual  family  visit  to  the  seaside, 
but  perceiving  with  a  mother's  wisdom  and  unselfishness 
that  it  was  time,  as  she  expressed  it,  for  her  young  one  to 
try  its  wings. 

So  the  big  steamer  plied  its  way  up  the  'fjord,  bearing 
Cecil  Boniface  and  her  small  troubles  and  perplexities  to 
healthy  old  Norway,  to  gain  there  fresh  physical  strength 
and  fresh  insights  into  that  puzzling  thing  called  life  ;  to 
make  friendships,  spite  of  her  avowed  unsociableness  ;  to 
learn  something  more  of  the  beauty  of  beauty,  the  joy  of 
joy,  and  the  pain  of  pain. 

She  was  no  student  of  human  nature  :  at  present  with 
girlish  impatience  she  turned  away  from  the  tourists, 
frankly  avowing  her  conviction  that  they  were  a  bore. 
She  was  willing  to  let  her  fancy  roam  to  the  fortunes  of 
some  imaginary  Rolf  and  Erica  living,  perhaps,  in  some  one 
or  other  of  the  solitary  red-roofed  cottages  to  be  seen  now 
and  then  on  the  mountain  side  ;  but  the  average  English 
life  displayed  on  the  deck  did  not  in  the  least  awaken  her 
sympathies  j  she  merely  classified  the  passengers  into 
rough  groups  and  dismissed  them  from  her  mind.  Ther* 


A  I1AKDY  NORSEMAN.  5 

was  the  photographic  group,  fraternizing  over  the  cameras 
set  up  all  in  a  little  encampment  at  the  forecastle  end. 
There  was  the  clerical  group  which  had  for  its  center  no 
fewer  than  five  gaitered  bishops.  There  was  the  sport- 
ing group  distinguished  by  light-brown  checked  suits  and 
comfortable  traveling  caps.  There  was  the  usual  sprink- 
ling of  pale,  weary,  overworked  men  and  women  come 
for  a  much-needed  rest.  And  there  was  the  flirting- 
group — a  notably  small  one,  however,  for  Norwegian 
traveling  is  rough  work,  and  is  ill-suited  to  this  genus. 

"Look  here,  Blanche,"  exclaimed  a  gray-bearded 
Englishman,  approaching  a  pretty  little  brunette  who  had 
a  most  sweet  and  winsome  expression,  and  who  was 
standing  so  near  to  the  camp-stool  on  which  Cecil  had  en- 
sconced herself  that  the  conversation  was  quite  audible  to 
her.  "Just  see  if  you  can  make  out  this  writing  ;  your 
eyes  are  better  than  mine.  It  is  from  Herr  Falck,  the 
Norwegian  agent  for  our  firm.  I  dare  say  your  father  told 
you  about  him." 

"Yes,  papa  said  he  was  one  of  the  leading  merchants 
out  here  and  would  advise  us  what  to  see  and  where  to 
go." 

"Quite  so.  This  letter  reached  me  just  as  I  was  leav- 
ing home,  and  is  to  say  that  Herr  Falck  has  taken  rooms 
for  us  at  some  hotel.  I  can  read  it  all  well  enough  except 
the  names,  but  the  fellow  makes  such  outrageous 
flourishes.  What  do  you  make  of  this  sentence,  begin- 
ning with  '  My  son  Frithiof  ? ' ' 

"Uncle!  uncle!  what  shocking  pronunciation!  You 
must  not  put  in  an  English  'th.'  Did  you  never  hear  of 
the  Frithiof  Saga?  You  must  say  it  quickly,  like  this 
— Freet-Yoff." 

"A  most  romantic  name,"  said  Mr.  Morgan.  "Now  I 
see  why  you  have  been  so  industrious  over  your  Nor- 
wegian lessons.  You  mean  to  carry  on  a  desperate 
flirtation  with  Herr  Frithiof.  Oh !  that  is  quite  clear — I 
shall  be  on  the  look-out." 

Blanche  laughed,  not  at  all  resenting  the  remark,  though 
she  bent  her  pretty  face  over  the  letter  and  pretended  to 
have  great  difficulty  in  reading  Herr  Falck's  very  excellent 
English. 

"Do  you  want  to  hear  this  sentence?"  she  said. 
"  Because  if  you  do  I'll  read  it." 

"  '  My  son  Frithiof  will  do  himself  the  honor  to  await 


6  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

your  arrival  at  Bergen  on  the  landing-quay,  and  will 
drive  you  to  Holdt's  Hotel,  where  we  have  procured  the 
rooms  you  desired.  My  daughter  Sigrid  (See-gree)  is  eager 
to  make  the  acquaintance  of  your  daughter  and  your 
niece,  and  if  you  will  all  dine  with  us  at  two  o'clock  on 
Friday  at  my  villa  in  Kalvedalen  we  shall  esteem  it  a 
great  pleasure.'" 

"Two  o'clock  dinner!"  exclaimed  Florence  Morgan, 
for  the  first  time  joining  in  the  general  conversation. 
"What  an  unheard-of  hour  !  " 

"  Oh  !  everything  is  primitive  simplicity  out  here,"  said 
Mr.  Morgan.  "  You  needn't  expect  London  fashions." 

"  I  suppose  Frithiof  Falck  will  be  a  sort  of  young 
Viking,  large-boned  and  dignified,  with  a  kind  of  good- 
natured  fierceness  about  him,"  said  Blanche,  folding  the 
letter. 

"No,  no,"  said  Florence,  "he'll  be  a  shy,  stupid 
country  bumpkin,  afraid  of  airing  his  bad  English,  and 
you  will  step  valiantly  into  the  breach  with  your  fluent 
Norwegian,  and  your  kindness  will  win  his  heart.  Then 
presently  he  will  come  up  in  his  artless  and  primitive  way 
with  a  Vaer  saa  god  (If  you  please),  and  will  take  your 
hand.  You  will  reply  Mange  tak  (Many  thanks)  and  we 
shall  all  joyfully  dance  at  your  wedding.  " 

There  was  general  laughter,  and  some  trifling  bets  were 
made  upon  the  vexed  question  of  Frithiof  Falck's  appear- 
ance. 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Morgan,  "it's  all  very  well  to  laugh 
now,  but  I  hope  you'll  be  civil  to  the  Falcks  when  we 
really  meet.  And  as  to  you,  Cyril,"  he  continued,  turn- 
ing to  his  nephew,  a  limp-looking  young  man  of  one-and- 
twenty,  "get  all  the  information  you  can  out  of  young 
Falck,  but  on  no  account  allow  him  to  know  that  your 
father  is  seriously  thinking  of  setting  you  at  the  head  of 
the  proposed  branch  at  Stavanger.  When  that  does  come 
about  of  course  Herr  Falck  will  lose  our  custom,  and  no 
doubt  it  will  be  a  blow  to  him  ;  so  mind  you  don't  breathe 
a  word  about  it,  nor  you  either,  girls.  We  don't  want  to 
spoil  our  holiday  with  business  matters,  and  besides,  one 
should  always  consider  other  people's  feelings." 

Cecil  set  her  teeth  and  the  color  rose  to  her  cheeks  ;  she 
moved  away  to  the  other  side  of  the  deck  that  she  might 
not  hear  any  more. 

' '  What  hateful  people  !  they  don't  care  a  bit  for  the 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  7 

kindness  and  hospitality  of  these  Norwegians.  They  only 
mean  just  to  use  them  as  a  convenience."  Then  as  her 
brother  rejoined  her  she  exclaimed:  "Roy!  who  are 
those  vulgar  people  over  on  the  other  side  ?  " 

"With  two  pretty  girls  in  blue  ulsters?  I  think  the 
name  is  Morgan,  rich  city  people.  The  old  man's  not 
bad,  but  the  young  one's  a  born  snob.  What  do  you  think  I 
heard  him  say  as  he  was  writing  his  name  in  the  book 
and  caught  sight  of  ours  ?  'Why,  Robert  Boniface — that 
must  be  the  music  shop  in  Regent  Street.  Norway  will 
soon  be  spoiled  if  all  the  cads  take  to  coming  over.'  And 
there  was  I  within  two  yards  of  him." 

"  Oh,  Roy  !  he  couldn't  have  known  or  he  would  never 
have  said  it." 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  knew  it  well  enough.  It  was  meant  for  a 
snub,  richly  deserved  by  the  presuming  tradesman  who 
dared  to  come  to  Norway  for  his  holiday  instead  of  eating 
shrimps  at  Margate,  as  such  cattle  should,  you  know  !  " 
and  Roy  laughed  good-humoredly.  Snubs  had  a  way  of 
gliding  off  him  like  water  off  a  duck's  back. 

"  I  should  have  hated  it,"  said  Cecil.  "What  did  you 
do  ? " 

"Nothing  ;  studied  Baedeker  with  an  imperturbable 
face  and  reflected  sapiently  with  William  of  Wykeham 
that  neither  birth  nor  calling,  but  '  manners  makyth 
man.'  But  look  !  this  must  be  Bergen.  What  a  glorious 
view  !  If  only  you  had  time  to  sketch  it  just  from  here  !  " 

Cecil,  after  one  quick  exclamation  of  delight  was  quite 
silent,  for  indeed  few  people  can  see  unmoved  that  exqui- 
site view  which  is  unfolded  before  them  as  they  round  the 
fjord  and  catch  the  first  glimpse  of  the  most  beautiful 
town  in  Norway.  Had  she  been  alone  she  would  have 
allowed  the  tears  of  happiness  to  come  into  her  eyes,  but 
being  on  a  crowded  steamer  she  fought  down  her  emo- 
tion and  watched  in  a  sort  of  dream  of  delight  the  pictur- 
esque wooden  houses,  the  red-tiled  roofs,  the  quaint 
towers  and  spires,  the  clear,  still  fjord  with  its  forest  of 
masts  and  rigging,  and  the  mountains  rising  steep  and 
sheer,  encircling  Bergen  like  so  many  hoary  old  giants 
who  had  vowed  to  protect  the  town. 

Meanwhile,  the  deck  resounded  with  those  comments 
which  are  so  very  irritating  to  most  lovers  of  scenery  ; 
one  long-haired  aesthete  gave  vent  to  a  fresh  adjective  of 
admiration  about  once  a  minute,  till  Roy  and  Cecil  were 


8  A  HA  RD  Y  NORSEMAN. 

forced  to  flee  from  him  and  to  take  refuge  among  the 
sporting  fraternity,  who  occasionally  admitted  frankly 
that  it  was  "a  fine  view,"  but  who  obtruded  their  per- 
sonality far  less  upon  their  companions. 

"Oh,  Roy,  how  we  shall  enjoy  it  all  !  "  said  Cecil  as 
they  drew  near  to  the  crowded  landing  quay. 

"I  think  we  shall  fit  in,  Cis,"  he  said,  smiling. 
"  Thank  heaven,  you  don't  take  your  pleasure  after  the 
manner  of  that  fellow.  If  I  were  his  traveling  companion 
I  should  throttle  him  in  a  week." 

,  "Or  suggest  a  muzzle,"  said  Cecil,  laughing;  "that 
would  save  both  his  neck  and  your  feelings." 

"Let  me  have  your  key,"  he  said,  as  they  approached 
the  wooden  pier  ;  "  the  custom-house  people  will  be  com- 
ing on  board,  and  I  will  try  to  get  our  things  looked 
over  quickly.  Wait  here,  and  then  I  shall  not  miss  you." 

He  hastened  away  and  Cecil  scanned  with  curious 
eyes  the  faces  of  the  little  crowd  gathered  on  the  landing- 
quay,  till  her  attention  was  arrested  by  a  young  Norwe- 
gian in  a  light-gray  suit  who  stood  laughing  and  talking 
to  an  acquaintance  on  the  wooden  wharf.  He  was  tall 
and  broad-shouldered,  with  something  unusually  erect  and 
energetic  in  his  bearing  ;  his  features  were  of  the  pure 
Greek  type  not  unfrequently  to  be  met  with  in  Norway  ; 
while  his  Northern  birth  was  attested  by  a  fair  skin  and 
light  hair  and  mustache,  as  well  as  by  a  pair  of  honest, 
well-opened  blue  eyes,  which  looked  out  on  the  world 
with  a  boyish  content  and  happiness. 

"I  believe  that  is  Frithiof  Falck,"  thought  Cecil.  And 
the  next  moment  her  idea  was  confirmed,  for  as  the  con- 
necting gangway  was  raised  from  the  quay  one  of  the 
steamer  officials  greeted  him  by  name,  and  the  young 
Norwegian,  replying  in  very  good  English,  stepped  on 
board  and  began  looking  about  as  if  in  search  of  some 
one.  Involuntarily  Cecil's  eyes  followed  him  ;  she  had  a 
strange  feeling  that  in  some  way  she  knew  him — knew 
him  far  better  than  the  people  he  had  come  to  meet.  He, 
too,  seemed  affected  in  the  same  way,  for  he  came 
straight  up  to  her,  and,  raising  his  hat  and  bowing,  said, 
with  frank  courtesy  : 

"  Pardon  me,  but  am  I  speaking  to  Miss  Morgan  ?  " 

"  I  think  the  Miss  Morgans  are  at  the  other  side  of  the 
gangway  ;  I  saw  them  a  minute  ago,"  she  said,  coloring 
a  little. 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  9 

"A  thousand  pardons  for  my  mistake,"  said  Frithiof 
Falck.  "  I  came  to  meet  this  English  family,  you  under- 
stand, but  I  have  never  seen  them." 

"There  is  Miss  Morgan,"  exclaimed  Cecil  ;  "  that  lady 
in  a  blue  ulster  ;  and  there  is  her  uncle  just  joining  her." 

"  Many  thanks  for  your  kind  help,''  said  Frithiof,  and 
with  a  second  bow  and  a  smile  from  his  frank  eyes  he 
passed  on  and  approached  Mr.  Morgan. 

"Welcome  to  Norway,  sir,"  he  exclaimed,  greeting  the 
traveler  with  the  easy,  courteous  manner  peculiar  to  Nor- 
wegians. "  I  hope  you  have  made  a  good  voyage." 

"Oh,  how  do  you  do,  Mr.  Falck?"  said  the  English- 
man, scanning  him  from  head  to  foot  as  he  shook  hands, 
and  speaking  very  loud  as  if  the  foreigner  were  deaf. 
"Very  good  of  you  to  meet  us,  I'm  sure.  My  niece, 
Miss  Blanche  Morgan." 

Frithiof  bowed,  and  his  heart  began  to  beat  fast  as  a 
pair  of  most  lovely  dark-gray  eyes  gave  him  such  a  glance 
as  he  had  never  before  received. 

"My  sister  is  much  looking  forward  to  the  pleasure  of 
making  your  acquaintance,"  he  said. 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  Blanche,  "how  beautifully  you 
speak  English  !  And  how  you  will  laugh  at  me  when  I 
tell  you  that  I  have  been  learning  Norwegian  for  fear  there 
should  be  dead  silence  between  us  !  " 

"Indeed,  there  is  nothing  which  pleases  us  so  much 
as  that  you  should  learn  our  tongue,"  he  said,  smiling. 
"My  English  is  just  now  in  its  zenith,  for  I  passed  the 
winter  with  an  English  clergyman  at  Hanover  for  the 
sake  of  improving  it." 

"  But  why  not  have  come  to  England?  "  said  Blanche. 

"Well,  I  had  before  that  been  with  a  German  family  at 
Hanover  to  perfect  myself  in  German,  and  I  liked  the 
place  well,  and  this  Englishman  was  very  pleasant,  so  I 
thought  if  I  stayed  there  it  would  be  '  to  kill  two  flies 
with  one  dash/  as  we  say  in  Norway.  When  I  come  to 
England  that  will  be  for  a  holiday,  for  nothing  at  all  but 
pleasure." 

"Let  me  introduce  my  nephew,"  said  Mr.  Morgan, 
as  Cyril  strolled  up.  "And  this  is  my  daughter.  How 
now,  Florence,  have  you  found  your  boxes  ?  " 

"Allow  me,"  said  Frithiof.  "If  you  will  tell  me  what 
to  look  for  I  will  see  that  the  hotel  porter  takes  it  all. " 

There  was  a  general  adjournment  to  the  region  of  push- 


10  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

ing  and  confusion  and  luggage,  and  before  long  Frithiof 
had  taken  the  travelers  to  his  father's  carriage,  and  they 
were  driving  through  the  long,  picturesque  Strandgaden. 
Very  few  vehicles  passed  through  this  main  street,  but 
throngs  of  pedestrians  walked  leisurely  along,  or  stood  in 
groups,  talking  and  laughing,  the  women  chiefly  wearing 
full  skirts  of  dark-blue  serge,  short  jackets  to  match,  and 
little  round  blue  serge  hoods  surmounting  their  clean 
white  caps  ;  the  men  also  in  dark  blue  with  broad  felt 
hats. 

To  English  visitors  there  is  an  indescribable  charm  in 
the  primitive  simplicity,  the  easy  informality  of  the  place  ; 
and  Frithiof  was  well  content  with  the  delighted  exclama- 
tions of  the  new-comers. 

' '  What  charming  ponies  !  "  cried  Blanche.  ' '  Look  how 
oddly  their  manes  are  cut — short  manes  and  long  tails  J 
How  funny  !  we  do  just  the  opposite.  And  they  all  seem 
cream  colored." 

"This  side,  Blanche,  quick!  A  lot  of  peasants  in 
sabots  !  and,  oh,  just  look  at  those  lovely  red  gables  !  " 

"How  nice  the  people  look,  too  !  so  different  to  people 
in  an  English  street.  What  makes  you  all  so  happy  over 
here  ? " 

"Why,  what  should  make  us  unhappy?  "  said  Frithiof. 
"We  love  our  country  and  our  town,  we  are  the  freest 
people  in  the  world,  and  life  is  a  great  pleasure  in  itself, 
don't  you  think  ?  But  away  in  the  mountains  our  people 
are  much  more  grave.  Life  is  too  lonely  there.  Here  in 
Bergen  it  is  perfection." 

Cyril  Morgan  regarded  the  speaker  with  a  pitying  eye, 
and  perhaps  would  have  enlightened  his  absurd  igno- 
rance and  discoursed  of  Pall  Mall  and  Piccadilly  had  not 
they  just  then  arrived  at  Holdt's  Hotel.  Frithiof  merely 
waited  to  see  that  they  approved  of  their  rooms,  gave 
them  the  necessary  information  as  to  bankers  and  lioniz- 
ing, received  Mr.  Morgan's  assurance  that  the  whole  party 
would  dine  at  Herr  Falck'sthe  next  day,  and  then,  having 
previously  dismissed  the  carriage,  set  out  at  a  brisker  pace 
than  usual  on  his  walk  home. 

Blanche  Morgan's  surprise  at  the  happy-looking  people 
somehow  amused  him.  Was  it  then  an  out-of-the-way 
thing  for  people  to  enjoy  life?  For  his  own  part  mere  ex- 
istence satisfied  him.  But  then  he  was  as  yet  quite  unac- 
quainted with  trouble.  The  death  of  his  mother  when  he 


A  HAttbv  NORSEMAN.  \  t 

was  only  eleven  years  old  had  been  at  the  time  a  great 
grief,  but  it  had  in  no  way  clouded  his  after  life — he  had 
been  scarcely  old  enough  to  realize  the  greatness  of  his 
loss.  Its  effect  had  been  to  make  him  cling  more  closely 
to  those  who  were  left  to  him — to  his  father,  to  his  twin 
sister  Sigrid,  and  to  the  little  baby  Swanhild  (Svarnheel), 
whose  birth  had  cost  so  much.  The  home  life  was  an 
extremely  happy  one  to  look  back  on,  and  now  that  his 
year  of  absence  was  over  and  his  education  finished,  it 
seemed  to  him  that  all  was  exactly  as  he  would  have  it. 
Faintly  in  the  distance  he  looked  forward  to  further  suc- 
cess and  happiness  ;  being  a  fervent  patriot,  he  hoped 
some  day  to  be  a  king's  minister — the  summit  of  a  Nor- 
wegian's ambition  ;  and  being  human,  he  had  visions  of 
an  ideal  wife  and  an  ideal  home  of  his  own.  But  the 
political  career  could  very  well  wait,  and  the  wife,  too, 
for  the  matter  of  that.  And  yet,  as  he  walked  rapidly 
along  Kong  Oscar's  Gade,  through  the  Stadsport,  and  past 
the  picturesque  cemeteries  which  lie  on  either  side  of  the 
road,  he  saw  nothing  at  all  but  a  vision  of  the  beautiful 
dark-gray  eyes  which  had  glanced  up  at  him  so  often  that 
afternoon,  and  in  his  mind  there  echoed  the  words  of  one 
of  Bjornson's  poems — 

"  To-day  is  j  ust  a  day  to  my  mind, 
All  sunny  before  and  sunny  behind, 
Over  the  heather." 

But  the  ending  of  the  poem  he  had  quite  forgotten. 


CHAPTER  II. 

HERR  FALCK  lived  in  one  of  the  pretty,  unpretentious 
houses  in  Kalvedalen,  which  are  chiefly  owned  by  the 
rich  merchants  of  Bergen.  The  house  stood  on  the  right- 
hand  side  of  the  road,  surrounded  by  a  pretty  little  garden  ; 
it  was  painted  a  light-brown  color,  and,  like  most  Bergen 
houses,  it  was  built  of  wood.  In  the  windows  one  could 
see  flowers,  and  beyond  them  white  muslin  curtains,  for 
aestheticism  had  not  yet  penetrated  to  Norway.  The  dark 
tiled  roof  was  outlined  against  a  wooded  hill  rising  imme- 
diately behind,  with  here  and  there  gray  rocks  peeping 


12  A  HARDY  NOtiS£MAX. 

through  the  summer  green  of  the  trees,  while  in  front  the 
chief  windows  looked  on  to  a  pretty  terrace  with  carefully 
kept  flower-beds,  then  down  the  wooded  hillside  to  the 
lake  below — the  Lungegaardsvand,  with  purple  and  gray 
heights  on  the  farther  shore,  and  on  one  side  a  break  in 
the  chain  of  mountains  and  a  lovely  stretch  of  open  coun- 
try. To  the  extreme  left  was  the  giant  Ulriken,  some- 
times shining  and  glistening,  sometimes  frowning  and 
dark,  but  always  beautiful  ;  while  to  the  right  you  caught 
a  glimpse  of  Bergen,  with  its  quaint  cathedral  tower,  and 
away  in  the  distance  the  fjord,  like  a  shining  silver  band 
in  the  sun. 

As  Frithiof  walked  along  the  grassy  terrace,  he  could 
hear  sounds  of  music  floating  from  th  ?  house  ;  some  one 
was  playing  a  most  inspiriting  waltz,  ">nd  as  soon  as  he 
had  reached  the  open  French  windo-  -  of  his  father's  study, 
a  quaint  pair  of  dancers  became  visible.  A  slim  little 
girl  of  ten  years  old,  with  very  short  petticoats  and  very 
long  golden  hair  braided  into  a  pig-tail,  held  by  the  front 
paws  a  fine  Esquimau  dog,  who  seemed  quite  to  enter 
into  the  fun,  and  danced  and  capered  most  cleverly, 
obediently  keeping  his  long  pointed  nose  over  his  partner's 
shoulder.  The  effect  was  so  comical  that  Frithiof  stood 
laughingly  by  to  watch  the  performance  for  fully  half  a 
minute,  then,  unable  to  resist  his  own  desire  to  dance,  he 
unceremoniously  called  Lillo,  the  dog,  away,  and  whirled 
off  little  Swanhild  in  the  rapid  waltz  which  Norwegians 
delight  in  ;  the  languid  grace  of  a  London  ballroom  would 
have  had  no  charms  for  him  ;  his  dancing  was  full  of  fire 
and  impetuosity,  and  Swanhild,  too,  danced  very  well — 
it  had  come  to  them  both  as  naturally  as  breathing. 

"  This  is  better  than  Lillo,"  admitted  the  child.  "Some- 
how he's  so  dreadfully  heavy  to  get  round.  Have  the 
English  people  come  ?  What  are  they  like?" 

"Oh,  they're  middling,"  said  Frithiof,  "all  except  the 
niece,  and  she  is  charming." 

"  Is  she  pretty?" 

"  Prettier  than  any  one  you  ever  saw  in  your  life." 

"Not  prettier  than  Sigrid ?"  said  the  little  sister,  con- 
fidently. 

"Wait  till  you  see,"  said  Frithiof.  "She  is  a  brunette, 
and  perfectly  lovely.  There  now  !  "  as  the  music  ceased, 
"  Sigrid  has  felt  her  left  ear  burning,  and  knows  that  we 
are  speaking  evil  of  her.  Let  us  come  to  confess." 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  13 

With  his  arm  still  round  the  child,  he  entered  the  pretty, 
bright-looking  room  to  the  right.  Sigrid  was  still  at  the 
piano,  but  she  had  heard  his  voice,  and  had  turned  round 
with  eager  expectation  in  her  face.  The  brother  and 
sister  were  very  much  alike ;  each  had  the  same  well- 
cut  Greek  features,  but  Frithiofs  face  was  broader  and 
stronger,  and  you  could  tell  at  a  glance  that  he  was 
the  more  intellectual  of  the  two.  On  the  other  hand 
Sigrid  possessed  a  delightful  fund  of  quiet  common-sense, 
and  her  judgment  was  seldom  at  fault,  while,  like  most 
Norwegian  girls,  she  had  a  most  charmingly  simple  man- 
ner and  an  unaffected  light-heartedness  which  it  did  one 
good  to  see. 

"Well!  what  news?"  she  exclaimed.  "Have  they 
come  all  right  ?  Are  they  nice  ?  " 

"Nice  is  not  the  word!  charming!  beautiful!  To- 
morrow you  will  see  if  I  hav<*  cnoken  too  strongly." 

"He  says  she  is  even  prettier  than  you,  Sigrid,"  said 
Swanhild,  mischievously.  "Prettier  than  any  one  we 
ever  saw  ! ' 

"She?     Which  of  them?" 

"  Miss  Blanche  Morgan,  the  daughter  of  the  head  of  the 
firm,  you  know." 

"And  the  other  one?" 

"I  hardly  know  ;  I  didn't  look  at  her  much  ;  the  others 
all  seemed  to  me  much  like  ordinary  English  tourists. 
But  she  !  well,  you  will  see  to-morrow." 

"How  I  wish  they  were  coming  to-night!  you  make 
me  quite  curious.  And  father  seems  so  excited  about 
their  coming.  I  have  not  seen  him  so  much  pleased  about 
anything  for  a  long  time." 

"Is  he  at  home?  " 

"No,  he  went  for  a  walk;  his  head  was  bad  again. 
That  is  the  only  thing  that  troubles  me  about  him  ;  his 
headaches  seem  to  have  become  almost  chronic  this  last 
year." 

A  shade  came  over  her  bright  face,  and  Frithiof,  too, 
looked  grave. 

"He  works  very  much  too  hard,"  he  said;  "but  as 
soon  as  I  come  of  age  and  am  taken  into  partnership  he 
will  be  more  free  to  take  a  thorough  rest.  At  present  I 
might  just  as  well  be  in  Germany  as  far  as  work  goes,  for 
he  will  hardly  let  me  do  anything  to  help  him." 

"Here  he  semes,  here  he  comes  1"  eried  Swanhild, 


14  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

who  had  wandered  away  to  the  window,  and  with  one 
accord  they  all  ran  out  to  meet  the  head  of  the  house, 
Lillo,  bounding  on  in  front  and  springing  up  at  his  master 
with  a  loving  greeting. 

Herr  Falck  was  a  very  pleasant-looking  man  of  about 
fifty  ;  he  had  the  same  well-chiseled  features  as  Frithiof, 
the  same  broad  forehead,  clearly  marked,  level  brows, 
and  flexible  lips,  but  his  eyes  had  more  of  gray  and  less 
of  blue  in  them,  and  a  practiced  observer  would  have  de- 
tected in  their  keen  glance  an  anxiety  which  could  not 
wholly  disguise  itself.  His  hair  and  whiskers  were  iron 
gray,  and  he  was  an  inch  or  two  shorter  than  his  son. 
They  all  stood  talking  together  at  the  door,  the  English 
visitors  still  forming  the  staple  of  conversation,  and  the 
anxiety  giving  place  to  eager  hope  in  Herr  Falck's  eyes 
as  Frithiof  once  more  sang  the  praises  of  Blanche  Morgan. 

"  Have  they  formed  any  plan  for  their  tour?  "  he  asked. 

"No  ;  they  mean  to  talk  it  over  with  you  and  get  your 
advice.  They  all  profess  to  have  a  horror  of  Baedeker, 
though  even  with  your  help  I  don't  think  they  will  get  far 
without  him." 

"It  is  certain  that  they  will  not  want  to  stay  very  long 
in  our  Bergen,"  said  Herr  Falck,  "the  English  never  do. 
What  should  you  say  now  if  you  all  took  your  summer 
outing  at  once  and  settled  down  at  Ulvik  or  Balholm  for 
a  few  weeks,  then  you  would  be  able  to  see  a  little  of  our 
friends  and  could  start  them  well  on  their  tour." 

"  What  a  delightful  plan,  little  father !  "  cried  Sigrid, 
"  only  you  must  come  too,  or  we  shall  none  of  us  enjoy 
it" 

"I  would  run  over  for  the  Sunday,  perhaps,  that  would 
be  as  much  as  I  could  manage,  but  Frithiof  will  be  there 
to  take  care  of  you.  What  should  you  want  with  a  care- 
worn old  man  like  me,  now  that  he  is  at  home  again  !  " 

"You  fish  for  compliments,  little  father,"  said  Sigrid, 
slipping  her  arm  within  his  and  giving  him  one  of  those 
mute  caresses  which  are  so  much  more  eloquent  than 
words.  "But,  quite  between  ourselves,  though  Frithiof 
is  all  very  well,  I  shan't  enjoy  it  a  bit  without  you. " 

"Yes,  yes,  father  dear,"  said  Swanhild,  "indeed  you 
must  come,  for  Frithiof  he  will  be  just  no  good  at  all,  he 
will  be  sure  to  dance  always  with  the  pretty  Miss  Morgan, 
and  to  row  her  about  on  the  fjord  all  day,  just  as  he 
did  those  pretty  girls  at  Norheimsund  and  Faleide." 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN,  15 

The  innocent  earnestness  of  the  child's  tone  made  them 
all  laugh,  and  Frithiof,  vowing  vengeance  on  her  for  the 
speech,  chased  her  round  and  round  the  garden,  their 
laughter  floating  back  to  Herr  Falck  and  Sigrid  as  they 
entered  the  house. 

"The  little  minx  !  "  said  Herr  Falck,  "  how  innocently 
she  said  it  too  !  I  don't  think  our  boy  is  such  a  desperate 
flirt  though.  As  far  as  I  remember  there  was  nothing 
more  than  a  sort  of  boy  and  girl  friendship  at  either  place." 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Sigrid,  smiling.  "Frithiof  was  too 
much  of  a  schoolboy,  every  one  liked  him  and  he  liked 
every  one.  I  don't  think  he  is  the  sort  of  man  to  fall 
in  love  easily." 

' '  No  ;  but  when  it  does  come  it  will  be  a  serious  affair. 
I  very  much  wish  to  see  him  happily  married." 

"Oh,  father  !  surely  not  yet.  He  is  so  young,  we  can't 
spare  him  yet. " 

'  Herr  Falck   threw   himself  back  in  his  arm-chair,  and 
mused  for  a  few  minutes. 

"  One  need  not  necessarily  lose  him,"  hereplied,  "  and 
you  know,  Sigrid,  I  am  a  believer  in  early  marriages — at 
least  for  my  son,  I  will  not  say  too  much  about  you,  little 
woman,  for  as  a  matter  of  fact  I  don't  know  how  I  should 
ever  spare  you. " 

."  Don't  be  afraid,  little  father  ;  you  may  be  very  sure  I 
shan't  marry  till  I  see  a  reasonable  chance  of  being  hap- 
pier than  I  am  at  home  with  you.  And  when  will  that  be, 
do  you  think  ?  " 

He  stroked  her  golden  hair  tenderly. 

"  Not  just  yet,  Sigrid,  let  us  hope.  Not  just  yet.  As 
to  our  Frithiof,  shall  I  tell  you  of  the  palace  in  cloudland 
I  am  building  for  him  ?  " 

"  Not  that  he  should  marry  the  pretty  Miss  Morgan,  as 
Swanhild  calls  her  ?  "  said  Sigrid,  with  a  strange  sinking 
at  the  heart. 

"  Why  not  ?  I  hear  that  she  is  a  charming  girl,  both 
clever  and  beautiful,  and  indeed  it  seems  to  me  that  he  is 
quite  disposed  to  fall  in  love  with  her  at  first  sight.  Of  course 
were  he  not  properly  in  love  I  should  never  wish  him  to 
marry,  but  I  own  that  a  union  between  the  two  houses 
would  be  a  great  pleasure  to  me — a  great  relief." 

He  sighed,  and  for  the  first  time  the  anxious  look  in  his 
eyes  attracted  Sigrid's  notice. 

"  Father,    dear,"   she   exclaimed,  "  won't  you  tell  me 


1 6  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN, 

* 

what  is  troubling  you  ?  There  is  something,  I  think. 
Tell  me,  little  father." 

He  looked  startled,  and  a  slight  flush  spread  over  his 
face,  but  when  he  spoke  his  voice  was  reassuring. 

"  A  business  man  often  has  anxieties  which  cannot  be 
spoken  of,  dear  child.  God  knows  they  weigh  lightly 
enough  on  some  men  ;  I  think  I  am  growing  old,  Sigrid, 
and  perhaps  I  have  never  learned  to  take  things  so  easily 
as  most  merchants  do. " 

"  Why,  father,  you  were  only  fifty  last  birthday  ;  you 
must  not  talk  yet  of  growing  old.  How  do  other  men 
learn  do  you  think,  to  take  things  lightly  ? " 

"  By  refusing  to  listen  to  their  own  conscience,"  said 
Herr  Falck,  with  sudden  vehemence.  "  By  allowing 
themselves  to  hold  one  standard  of  honor  in  private  life 
and  a  very  different  standard  in  business  transactions. 

Oh,  Sigrid  !  I  would  give  a  great  deal  to  find  some  other 
opening  for  Frithiof.  I  dread  the  life  for  him." 

"  Do  you  think  it  is  really  so  hard  to  be  strictly  honor- 
able in  business  life?  And  yet  it  is  a  life  that  must  be 
lived,  and  is  it  not  better  that  such  a  man  as  Frithiof  should 
take  it  up — a  man  with  such  a  high  sense  of  honor?  " 

"  You  don't  know  what  business  men  have  to  stand 
against,"  said  Herr  Falck.  "Frithiof  is  a  good,  honest 
fellow,  but  as  yet  he  has  seen  nothing  of  life.  And  I  tell 
you,  child,  we  often  fail  in  our  strongest  point." 

He  rose  from  his  chair  and  paced  the  room  ;  it  seemed 
to  Sigrid  that  a  nameless  shadow  had  fallen  on  their  sunny 
home.  She  was  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  afraid, 
though  the  fear  was  vague  and  undefined. 

"  But  there,  little  one,"  said  her  father,  turning  toward 
her  again.  "  You  must  not  be  worried.  I  get  nervous 
and  depressed,  that  is  all.  As  I  told  you,  I  am  growing 
old." 

"  Frithiof  would  like  to  help  you  more  if  you  would  let 
him,"  said  Sigrid,  rather  wistfully.  "  He  was  saying  so 
just  now." 

"  And  so  he  shall  in  the  autumn.  He  is  a  good  lad, 
and  if  all  goes  well  I  hope  he  will  some  day  be  my  right 
hand  in  the  business,  but  I  wish  him  to  have  a  few 
months'  holiday  first.  And  there  is  this  one  thing,  Sigrid, 
which  I  can  tell  you,  if  you  really  want  to  know  about 
my  anxieties  ? " 

"  Indeed  I  do,  little  father,"  she  said  eagerly- 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  17 

"  There  are  many  matters  which  you  would  not  under- 
stand even  could  I  speak  of  them  ;  but  you  know,  of 
course,  that  I  am  agent  in  Norway  for  the  firm  of  Morgan 
brothers.  Well,  a  rumor  has  reached  me  that  they  intend 
to  break  off  the  connection  and  to  send  out  the  eldest  son 
to  set  up  a  branch  at  Stavanger.  It  is  a  mere  rumor,  and 
reached  me  quite  accidentally.  I  very  much  hope  it  may 
not  be  true,  but  there  is  no  denying  that  Stavanger  would 
be  in  most  ways  better  suited  for  their  purpose  ;  in  fact, 
the  friend  who  told  me  of  the  rumor  said  that  they  felt 
now  that  it  had  been  a  mistake  all  along  to  have  the 
agency  here,  and  they  had  only  done  it  because  they  knew 
Bergen  and  knew  me." 

"  Why  is  Stavanger  a  better  place  for  it?  " 

"  It  is  better  because  most  of  the  salmon  and  lobsters 
are  caught  in  the  neighborhood  of  Stavanger,  and  all  the 
mackerel,  too  to  the  south  of  Bergen.  I  very  much  hope 
the  rumor  is  not  true,  for  it  would  be  a  great  blow  to  me 
to  lose  the  English  connection.  Still,  it  is  not  unlikely, 
and  the  times  are  hard  now,  very  hard." 

"  And  you  think  your  palace  in  cloudland  forFrithiof 
would  prevent  Mr.  Morgan  from  breaking  the  connec- 
tion ? " 

"  Yes,  a  marriage  between  the  two  houses  would  be  a 
great  thing,  it  would  make  this  new  idea  unlikely,  if  not 
altogether  impossible.  I  am  thankful  that  there  seems 
now  some  chance  of  it.  Let  the  two  meet  naturally  and 
learn  to  know  each  other.  I  will  not  say  a  word  to 
Frithiof,  it  would  only  do  harm  ;  but  to  you,  Sigrid,  I 
confess  that  my  heart  is  set  on  this  plan.  If  I  could  for 
one  moment  make  you  see  the  future  as  I  see  it,  you 
would  feel  with  me  how  important  the  matter  is." 

At  this  moment  Frithiof  himself  entered,  and  the  con- 
versation was  abruptly  ended. 

"Well,  have  you  decided?"  he  asked,  in  his  eager, 
boyish  way.  "Is  it  to  be  Ulvik  or  Balholm?  What! 
You  were  not  even  talking  about  that.  Oh,  I  know  what 
it  was  then.  Sigrid  was  deep  in  the  discussion  of  to- 
morrow's dinner.  I  will  tell  you  what  to  do  ;  abolish  the 
romekolle,  and  let  us  be  English  to  the  backbone.  Now 
I  think  of  it,  Mr.  Morgan  is  not  unlike  a  walking  sirloin 
with  a  plum-pudding  head.  There  is  your  bill  of  fare,  so 
waste  no  more  time." 

The  brother  and  sister  went  off  together,  laughing  and 
talking  ;  but  when  the  door  closed  behind  them  the  mas- 

2 


iS  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN". 

ter  of  the  house  buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  for  many 
minutes  sat  motionless.  What  troubled  thoughts,  what 
wearing  anxieties  filled  his  mind,  Sigrid  little  guessed.  It 
was  after  all  a  mere  surface  difficulty  of  which  he  had 
spoken  ;  of  the  real  strain  which  was  killing  him  by  inches, 
he  could  not  say  a  word  to  any  mortal  being, though  now 
in  his  great  misery  he  instinctively  prayed. 

"  My  poor  children  !"  he  groaned.  "Oh,  God,  spare 
them  from  this  shame  and  ruin  which  haunts  me.  I  have 
tried  to  be  upright  and  prudent,  it  was  only  this  once  that 
I  was  rash.  Give  me  success  for  their  sakes,  oh,  God  ! 
The  selfish  and  unscrupulous  flourish  on  all  sides.  Give 
me  this  one  success.  Let  me  not  blight  their  whole  lives. " 

But  the  next  day,  when  he  went  forward  to  greet  his 
English  guesU,  it  would  have  been  difficult  to  recognize 
him  as  the  burdened,  careworn  man  from  whose  lips  had 
been  wrung  that  confession  and  that  prayer.  All  his 
natural  courtesy  and  brightness  had  returned  to  him  ;  if 
he  thought  of  his  business  at  all  he  thought  of  it  in  the 
most  sanguine  way  possible,  and  the  Morgans  saw  in  him 
only  an  older  edition  of  Frithiof,  and  wondered  how  he 
had  managed  to  preserve  such  buoyant  spirits  in  the  cares 
and  uncertainties  of  mercantile  life.  The  two  o'clock 
dinner  passed  off  well ;  Sigrid,  who  was  a  clever  little 
housekeeper,  had  scouted  Frithiofs  suggestion  as  to  the 
roast  beef  and  plum-pudding,  and  had  carefully  devised  a 
thoroughly  Norwegian  repast. 

"  For  I  thought,"  she  explained  afterward  to  Blanche, 
when  the  two  girls  had  made  friends,  "  that  if  I  went  to 
England  I  should  wish  to  see  your  home  life  just  exactly 
as  it  really  is,  and  so  I  have  ordered  the  sort  of  dinner 
we  should  naturally  have,  and  did  not  as  Frithiof  advised, 
leave  out  the  romekolle. " 

"Was  that  the  stuff  like  curds  and  whey?"  asked 
Blanche,  who  was  full  of  eager  interest  in  everything. 

"Yes;  it  was  sour  cream  with  bread  crumbs  grated 
over  it.  We  always  have  a  plateful  each  at  dinner,  it  is 
quite  one  of  our  customs.  But  everything  here  is  very 
simple  of  course,  not  grand  as  with  you  ;  we  do  not  keep 
a  great  number  of  servants,  or  dine  late,  or  dress  for  the 
evening — here  there  is  nothing — "she  hesitated  for  a  word, 
then  in  her  pretty  foreign  English  added,  ' '  nothing  cere- 
monious." 

"That  is  just  the  charm  of  it  all,"  said  Blanche,  in  her 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  19 

sweet,  gracious  way.  "It  is  all  so  real  and  simple  and 
fresh,  and  I  think  it  was  delightful  of  you  to  know  how 
much  best  we  should  like  to  have  a  glimpse  of  your  real 
home  life  instead  of  a  stupid  party.  Now  mamma  cares 
for  nothing  but  just  to  make  a  great  show,  it  doesn't 
matter  whether  the  visitors  really  like  it  or  not." 

Sigridfelt  a  momentary  pang  of  doubt ;  she  had  fallen 
in  love  with  Blanche  Morgan  the  moment  she  saw  her, 
but  it  somehow  hurt  her  to  hear  the  English  girl  criticise 
her  own  mother.  To  Sigrid's  loyal  nature  there  was 
something  out  of  tune  in  that  last  remark. 

"  Perhaps  you  and  your  cousin  would  like  see  over 
the  house, "  she  said,  by  way  of  making  a  diversion, 
"though  I  must  tell  y  that  we  are  considered  here  in 
Bergen  to  be  rather  English  in  some  points.  That  is  be- 
cause of  my  father's  busin-.s  connection  with  England  I 
suppose.  Here  you  see,  :n  his  study,  he  has  a  real  Eng- 
lish fireplace ;  we  all  like  it  much  better  than  the  stoves, 
and  some  day  I  should  like  to  have  them  in  the  other 
rooms  as  well." 

"  But  there  is  one  thing  very  un-English,"  said  Blanche, 
"There  are  no  passages;  instead,  I  see,  all  your  rooms 
open  out  of  each  other.  Such  numbers  of  lovely  plants, 
too,  in  every  direction  ;  we  are  not  so  artistic,  we  stand 
them  all  in  prim  rows  in  a  conservatory.  This,  too,  is 
quite  new  to  me.  What  a  good  idea  ! "  And  she  went 
up  to  examine  a  prettily  worked  sling  fastened  to  the  wall, 
and  made  to  hold  newspapers. 

She  was  too  polite  of  course  to  say  what  really  struck 
her — that  the  whole  house  seemed  curiously  simple  and 
bare,  and  that  she  had  imagined  that  one  of  the  leading 
merchants  of  Bergen  would  live  in  greater  style.  As  a 
matter  of  fact  you  might,  as  Cyril  expressed  it,  have 
bought  the  whole  place  for  an  old  song,  and  though  there 
was  an  air  of  comfort  and  good  taste  about  the  rooms  and 
a  certain  indescribable  charm  they  were  evidently  destined 
for  use  and  not  for  show,  and  with  the  exception  of  some 
fine  old  Norwegian  silver  and  a  few  good  pictures,  Herr 
Falck  did  not  possess  a  single  thing  of  value. 

Contrasted  with  the  huge  and  elaborately  furnished 
house  in  Lancaster  Gate  with  its  lavishly  strewed  knick- 
knacks,  its  profusion  of  all  the  beautiful  things  that  money 
could  buy,  the  Norwegian  villa  seemed  poor  indeed,  yet 
there  was  something  about  it  which  took  Blanche's  fancy. 


20  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

Later  on,  when  the  whole  party  had  started  for  a  walk, 
and  when  Frithiof  and  Blanche  had  quite  naturally  drifted 
into  a  tele-a-teie,  she  said  something  to  this  effect. 

"I  begin  not  to  wonder  that  you  are  so  happy,"  she 
added,  "the  whole  atmosphere  of  the  place  is  happiness. 
I  wish  you  could  teach  us  the  secret  of  it." 

"  Have  you  then  only  the  gift  of  making  other  people 
happy?  "  said  Frithiof.  "That  seems  strange." 

"You  will  perhaps  think  me  very  discontented,"  she 
said,  with  a  pathetic  little  sadness  in  her  tone  which 
touched  him.  "But  seeing  how  fresh  and  simple  and 
•happy  your  life  is  out  here  makes  me  more  out  of  heart 
than  ever  with  my  own  home.  You  must  not  think  I  am 
grumbling,  they  are  very  good  to  me,  you  know,  and 
give  me  everything  that  money  can  buy  ;  but  somehow 
there  is  so  much  that  jars  on  one,  and  here  there  seems 
nothing  but  kindliness  and  ease  and  peace." 

"  I  am  glad  you  like  our  life,"  he  said,  "  so  very  glad." 

And  as  she  told  him  more  of  her  home  and  her  London 
life,  and  of  how  little  it  satisfied  her,  her  words,  and  still 
more  her  manner  and  her  sweet  eyes,  seemed  to  weave  a 
sort  of  spell  about  him,  seemed  to  lure  him  on  into  a 
wonderful  future,  and  to  waken  in  him  a  new  life. 

"I  like  him,"  thought  Blanche  to  herself.  "Perhaps 
after  all  this  Norwegian  tour  will  not  be  so  dull.  I  like 
to  see  his  eyes  light  up  so  eagerly  ;  he  really  has  beauti- 
ful eyes  !  I  almost  think — I  really  almost  think  I  am  just 
a  little  bit  in  love  with  him." 

At  this  moment  they  happened  to  overtake  two  English 
tourists  on  the  road  ;  as  they  passed  on  in  front  of  them 
Frithiof,  with  native  courtesy,  took  off  his  hat. 

"You  surely  don't  know  that  man  ?  he  is  only  a  shop- 
keeper," said  Blanche,  not  even  taking  the  trouble  to 
lower  her  voice. 

Frithiof  crimsoned  to  the  roots  of  his  hair.  "I  am 
afraid  he  must  have  heard  what  you  said,"  he  exclaimed, 
quickening  his  pace  in  the  discomfort  of  the  realization. 
"I  do  not  know  him  certainly,  but  one  is  bound  to  be 
courteous  to  strangers." 

' '  I  know  exactly  who  he  is, "  said  Blanche,  ' '  for  he  and 
his  sister  were  on  the  steamer,  and  Cyril  found  out  all 
about  them.  He  is  Boniface,  the  music-shop  man." 

Frithiof  was  saved  a  reply,  for  just  then  they  reached 
their  destination,  and  rejoined  the  rest  of  the  party,  who 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  2 1 

were  clustered  together  on  the  hill-side  enjoying  a  most 
lovely  view.  Down  below  them,  sheltered  by  a  great 
craggy  mountain  on  the  farther  side,  lay  a  little  lonely 
lake,  so  weird-looking,  so  desolate,  that  it  was  hard  to 
believe  it  to  be  within  an  easy  walk  of  the  town.  Angry- 
looking  clouds  were  beginning  to  gather  in  the  sky,  a 
purple  gloom  seemed  to  overspread  the  mountain  and  the 
lake,  and  something  of  its  gravity  seemed  also  to  have 
fallen  on  Frithiof.  He  had  found  the  first  imperfection 
in  his  ideal,  yet  it  had  only  served  to  show  him  how 
great  a  power,  how  strange  an  influence  she  possessed 
over  him.  He  knew  now  that,  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life,  he  was  blindly,  desperately  in  love. 

"Why,  it  is  beginning  to  rain,"  said  Mr.  Morgan.  "  I 
almost  think  we  had  better  be  turning  back,  Herr  Falck. 
It  has  been  a  most  enjoyable  little  walk  ;  but  if  we  can 
reach  the  hotel  before  it  settles  in  for  a  wet  evening,  why, 
all  the  better." 

"The  rain  is  the  great  drawback  to  Bergen,"  said  Herr 
Falck.  "At  Christiania  they  have  a  saying  that  when 
you  go  to  Bergen  it  rains  three  hundred  and  sixty-six  days 
out  of  the  year.  But  after  all  one  becomes  very  much 
accustomed  to  it." 

On  the  return  walk  the  conversation  was  more  general, 
and  though  Frithiof  walked  beside  Blanche  he  said  very 
little.  His  mind  was  full  of  the  new  idea  which  had  just 
dawned  upon  him,  and  he  heard  her  merry  talk  with 
Sigrid  and  Swanhild  like  a  man  in  a  dream.  Before  long, 
much  to  his  discomfort,  he  saw  in  front  of  them  the  two 
English  tourists,  and  though  his  mind  was  all  in  a  tumult 
with  this  new  perception  of  his  love  for  Blanche,  yet  the 
longing  to  make  up  for  her  ill-judged  remark,  the  desire 
to  prove  that  he  did  not  share  in  her  prejudice,  was  power- 
ful too.  He  fancied  that  it  was  chiefly  to  avoid  them 
that  the  Englishman  turned  toward  the  bank  just  as  they 
passed  to  gather  a  flower  which  grew  high  above  his  head. 

"  What  can  this  be,  Cecil  ?  "  he  remarked. 

"Allow  me,  sir,"  said  Frithiof,  observing  that  it  was 
just  out  of  the  stranger's  reach. 

He  was  two  or  three  inches  taller,  and,  with  an  adroit 
spring,  was  able  to  bring  down  the  flower  in  triumph. 
By  this  time  the  others  were  some  little  way  in  advance. 
He  looked  rather  wistfully  after  Blanche,  and  fancied 
disapproval  in  her  erect,  trim  little  figure, 


22  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

"This  is  the  Linnaea,"  he  explained.  "You  will  find 
a  great  deal  of  it  about.  It  was  the  flower,  you  know, 
which  Linnaeus  chose  to  name  after  himself.  Some  say 
he  showed  his  modesty  in  choosing  so  common  and  in- 
significant a  plant,  but  it  always  seems  to  me  that  he 
showed  his  good  taste.  It  is  a  beautiful  flower." 

Roy  Boniface  thanked  him  heartily  for  his  help.  "  We 
were  hoping  to  find  the  Linnaea,''  he  said,  handing  it  to 
his  sister,  while  he  opened  a  specimen  tin. 

"  What  delicate  little  bells  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  I  quite 
agree  with  you  that  Linnaeus  showed  his  good  taste." 

Frithiof  would  probably  have  passed  on  had  he  not,  at 
that  moment,  recognized  Cecil  as  the  English  girl  whom 
he  had  first  accosted  on  the  steamer. 

"Pardon  me  for  not  knowing  you  before,"  he  said, 
raising  his  hat.  "We  met  yesterday  afternoon,  did  we 
not  ?  I  hope  you  have  had  a  pleasant  time  at  Ber- 
gen ?  " 

"  Delightful,  thank  you.  We  think  it  the  most  charm- 
ing town  we  ever  saw." 

"Barring  the  rain,"  said  Roy,  "for  which  we  have 
foolishly  forgotten  to  reckon." 

"  Never  be  parted  from  your  umbrella  is  a  sound  axiom 
for  this  part  of  the  world,"  said  Frithiof,  smiling.  "  Hullo  ! 
it  is  coming  down  in  good  earnest.  I'm  afraid  you  will 
get  very  wet,"  he  said,  glancing  at  Cecil's  pretty,  gray 
travelling-dress. 

"Shall  we  stand  up  for  a  minute  under  that  porch, 
Roy  ?  "  said  the  girl,  glancing  at  a  villa  which  they  were 
just  passing. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Frithiof ;  "  please  take  shelter  with  us. 
My  father's  villa  is  close  by.  Please  come." 

And  since  Cecil  was  genuinely  glad  not  to  get  wet 
through,  and  since  Roy,  though  he  cared  nothing  for  the 
rain,  was  glad  to  have  a  chance  of  seeing  the  inside  of  a 
Norwegian  villa,  they  accepted  the  kindly  offer,  and  fol- 
lowed their  guide  into  the  pretty,  snug-looking  house. 

Roy  had  heard  a  good  deal  of  talk  about  sweetness  and 
light,  but  he  thought  he  had  never  realized  the  meaning 
of  the  words  till  the  moment  when  he  was  ushered  into 
that  pretty  Norwegian  drawing-room,  with  its  painted 
floor  and  groups  of  flowers,  and  its  pink-tinted  walls, 
about  which  the  green  ivy  wreathed  itself  picturesquely, 
now  twining  itself  round  some  mirror  or  picture-frame, 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  t$ 

now  forming  a  sort  of  informal  frieze  round  the  whole 
room,  its  roots  so  cleverly  hidden  away  in  sheltered  cor- 
ners or  on  unobtrusive  brackets  that  the  growth  had  all 
the  fascination  of  mystery.  The  presiding  genius  of  the 
place,  and  the  very  center  of  all  that  charmed,  stood  by 
one  of  the  windows,  the  light  falling  on  her  golden  hair. 
She  had  taken  off  her  hat  and  was  flicking  the  rain-drops 
from  it  with  her  handkerchief  when  Frithiof  introduced 
the  two  Bonifaces,  and  Roy,  who  found  his  novel  expe- 
rience a  little  embarrassing,  was  speedily  set  at  ease  by 
her  delightful  naturalness  and  frank  courtesy. 

Her  brow  and  smile  were  grace  itself,  and  she  seemed 
to  take  the  whole  proceeding  entirely  as  a  matter  of 
course  ;  one  might  have  supposed  that  she  was  in  the 
habit  of  sheltering  wet  tourists  every  day  of  her  life. 

"  I  am  so  glad  my  brother  found  you,"  she  exclaimed. 
"You  would  have  been  wet  through  had  you  walked  on 
to  Bergen.  Swanhild,  run  and  fetch  a  duster  ;  oh,  you 
have  brought  one  already,  that's  a  good  child.  Now  let 
me  wipe  your  dress,"  she  added,  turning  to  Cecil. 

"Where  has  every  one  disappeared  to?  "  asked  Frithiof. 

"  Father  has  walked  on  to  Holdt's  Hotel  with  the  Mor- 
gans," said  Swanhild.  "They  would  not  wait,  though 
we  tried  to  persuade  them  to.  Father  is  going  to  talk 
over  their  route  with  them." 

Cecil  saw  a  momentary  look  of  annoyance  on  his  face ; 
but  the  next  minute  he  was  talking  as  pleasantly  as  pos- 
sible to  Roy,  and  before  long  the  question  of  routes  was 
being  discussed,  and  as  fast  as  Frithiof  suggested  one 
place,  Sigrid  and  Swanhild  mentioned  others  which  must 
on  no  account  be  missed. 

"  And  you  can  really  only  spare  a  month  for  it  all  ?  " 
asked  Sigrid.  ' '  Then  I  should  give  up  going  to  Christiania 
or  Trondhjem  if  I  were  you.  They  will  not  interest  you 
half  as  much  as  this  southwest  coast." 

"  But,  Sigrid,  it  is  impossible  to  leave  out  Kongswold 
and  Dombaas.  For  you  are  a  botanist,  are  you  not  ? " 
said  Frithiof,  turning  to  the  Englishman,  "and  those 
places  are  perfection  for  flowers. " 

"Yes?  then  you  must  certainly  go  there,"  said  Sigrid. 
"  Kongswold  is  a  dear  little  place  up  on  the  Dovrefjeld. 
Yet  if  you  were  not  botanists  I  should  say  you  ought  to 
see  instead  either  the  Voringsfos  or  the  Skjaeggedalsfos, 
they  are  our  two  finest  waterfalls." 


24  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

' '  The  Skedaddle-fos,  as  the  Americans  call  it,"  put  in 
Frithiof. 

"You  have  a  great  many  American  tourists,  I  suppose," 
said  Roy. 

"Oh,  yes,  a  great  many,  and  we  like  them  very  well, 
though  not  as  we  like  the  English.  To  the  English  we 
feel  very  much  akin." 

"  And  you  speak  our  language  so  well !  "  said  Cecil,  to 
whom  the  discovery  had  been  a  surprise  and  a  relief. 

"  You  see  we  Norwegians  think  a  great  deal  of  educa- 
tion. Our  schools  are  very  good  ;  we  are  all  taught  to 
speak  German  and  English.  French,  which  with  you 
comes  first,  does  it  not  ?  stands  third  with  us." 

"  Tell  me  about  your  schools,"  said  Cecil.  "  Are  they 
like  ours,  I  wonder. 

"We  begin  at  six  years  old  to  go  to  the  middle  school 
— they  say  it  is  much  like  your  English  high  schools  ;  both 
my  brother  and  I  went  to  the  middle  schools  here  at  Ber- 
gen. Then,  when  we  were  sixteen,  we  went  to  Christiania 
— he  to  the  Handelsgymnasium  and  I  to  Miss  Bauer's 
school — for  two  years.  My  little  sister  is  now  at  the 
middle  school  here  ;  she  goes  every  day,  but  just  now  it 
is  holiday  time." 

"And  in  holidays,"  said  Swanhild,  whose  English  was 
much  less  fluent  and  ready,  "  we  go  away.  We  perhaps 
go  to-morrow  to  Balholm." 

"Perhaps  we  shall  meet  you  again  there,"  said  Sigrid. 
"Oh,  do  come  there ;  it  is  such  a  lovely  place  !  " 

Then  followed  a  discussion  about  flowers,  in  which 
Sigrid  was  also  interested,  and  presently  Herr  Falck  re- 
turned, and  added  another  picture  of  charming  hospitality 
to  the  group  that  would  always  remain  in  the  minds  of 
the  English  travelers  ;  and  then  there  was  afternoon  tea, 
which  proved  a  great  bond  of  union,  and  more  discussion 
of  English  and  Norwegian  customs,  and  much  laughter 
and  merriment  and  lightheartedness. 

When  at  length  the  rain  ceased  and  Roy  and  Cecil  were 
allowed  to  leave  for  Bergen,  they  felt  as  if  the  kindly  Nor- 
wegians were  old  friends. 

"Shall  you  be  very  much  disappointed  if  we  give  up 
the  Skedaddle-fos  ?  "  asked  Roy.  "  It  seems  to  me  that  a 
waterfall  is  a  waterfall  all  the  world  over,  but  that  we  are 
not  likely  to  meet  everywhere  with  a  family  like  that." 

"Oh,  by  all  means  give  it  up,"  said  Cecil,  gayly.      "  I 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  25 

would  far  rather  have  a  few  quiet  days  at  Balholm.  I 
detest  toiling  after  the  things  every  one  expects  you  to 
see.  Besides,  we  can  always  be  sure  of  finding  the  Skjaeg- 
gedalsfos  in  Norway,  but  we  can't  tell  what  may  happen 
to  these  delightful  people." 


CHAPTER  III. 

BALHOLM,  the  loveliest  of  all  the  places  on  the  Sogne 
Fjord,  is,  perhaps,  the  quietest  place  on  earth.  There  is 
a  hotel,  kept  by  two  most  delightful  Norwegian  brothers, 
there  is  a  bathing-house,  a  minute  landing-stage,  and  a 
sprinkling  of  little  wooden  cottages  with  red-tiled  roofs. 
The  only  approach  is  by  water ;  no  dusty  high-road  is  to 
be  found,  no  carts  and  carnages  rumble  past ;  if  you  want 
rest  and  quiet  you  have  only  to  seek  it  on  the  mountains 
or  by  the  shore ;  if  you  want  amusement,  you  have  only 
to  join  the  merry  Norwegians  in  the  salon,  who  are  always 
ready  to  sing  or  to  play,  to  dance  or  to  talk,  or,  if  weather- 
bound, to  play  games  with  the  zest  and  animation  of 
children.  Even  so  limp  a  specimen  of  humanity  as  Cyril 
Morgan  found  that,  after  all,  existence  in  this  primitive 
region  had  its  charms,  while  Blanche  said,  quite  truthfully, 
that  she  had  never  enjoyed  herself  so  much  in  her  life. 
There  was  to  her  a  charming  piquancy  about  both  place 
and  people ;  and,  although  she  was  well  accustomed  to 
love  and  admiration,  she  found  that  Frithiof  was  alto- 
gether unlike  the  men  she  had  hitherto  met  in  society  ; 
there  was  about  him  something  strangely  fresh — he  seemed 
to  harmonize  well  with  the  place,  and  he  made  all  the 
other  men  of  whom  she  could  think  seem  ordinary  and 
prosaic.  As  for  Frithiof,  he  made  no  secret  of  his  love 
for  her,  it  was  apparent  to  all  the  world — to  the  light- 
hearted  Norwegians,  who  looked  on  approvingly;  to  Cyril 
Morgan,  who  wondered  what  on  earth  Blanche  could  see 
in  such  an  unsophisticated  boy  ;  to  Mr.  Morgan,  who,  with 
a  shrug  of  his  broad  shoulders,  remarked  that  there  was  no 
help  for  it — it  was  Blanche's  way  ;  to  Roy  Boniface,  who 
thought  the  two  were  well  matched,  and  gave  them  his 
good  wishes  ;  and  to  Cecil,  who,  as  she  watched  the  two 
a  little  wistfully,  said  in  her  secret  heart  what  could  on 


26  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

no  account  have  been  said  to  any  living  being,    "I  hope, 
oh,  I  hope  she  cares  for  him  enough  !  " 

One  morning,  a  little  tired  with  the  previous  day's  ex- 
cursion to  the  Suphelle  Brae,  they  idled  away  the  sunny 
hours  on  the  fjord,  Frithiof  rowing,  Swanhild  lying  at  full 
length  in  the  bow  with  Lillo  mounting  guard  over  her, 
and  Blanche,  Sigrid,  and  Cecil  in  the  stern.  s 

"You  have  been  all  this  time  at  Balholm,  and  yet  have 
not  seen  King  Bele's  grave  !  "  Frithiof  had  exclaimed,  in 
answer  to  Blanche's  inquiry.  "Look,  there  it  is;  just  a 
green  mound  by  that  tree." 

"Isn't  it  odd,"  said  Sigfrid,  dreamily,  "to  think  that 
we  are  just  in  the  very  place  where  the  Frithiof  Saga  was 
really  lived  ? " 

"But  I  thought  it  was  only  a  legend,"  said  Cecil. 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Frithiof,  "the  sagas  are  not  legends, 
but  true  stories  handed  down  by  word  of  mouth." 

"Then  I  wish  you  would  hand  down  your  saga  to  us 
by  word  of  mouth, "  said  Blanche,  raising  her  sweet  eyes 
to  his.  "I  shall  never  take  the  trouble  to  read  it  for  my- 
self in  some  dry,  tiresome  book.  Tell  us  the  story  of 
Frithiof  now,  as  we  drift  along  in  the  boat  with  his  old 
home  Framnaes  in  sight.'' 

"  I  do  not  think  I  can  tell  it  really  well, "he  said;  "but 
I  can  just  give  you  the  outline  of  it  : 

"  Frithiof  was  the  only  son  of  a  wealthy  yeoman,  who 
owned  land  at  Framnaes.  His  father  was  a  great  friend 
of  King  Bele,  and  the  king  wished  that  his  only  daughter, 
Ingeborg,  should  be  educated  by  the  same  wise  man  who 
taught  Frithiof,  so  you  see  it  happened  that  as  children, 
Frithiof  and  Ingeborg  were  always  together,  and  by  and 
by  was  it  not  quite  natural  that  they  should  learn  to  love 
each  other?  It  happened  just  so,  and  Frithiof  vowed 
that,  although  he  was  only  the  son  of  a  yeoman,  nothing 
should  separate  them  or  make  him  give  her  up.  It  then 
happened  that  King  Bele  died,  and  Frithiofs  father,  his 
great  friend,  died  at  the  same  time.  Then  Frithiof  went 
to  live  at  Framnaes,  over  yonder  ;  he  had  great  posses- 
sions, but  the  most  useful  were  just  these  three  :  a  won- 
derful sword,  a  wonderful  bracelet,  and  a  wonderful  ship, 
called  Ellida,  which  had  been  given  to  one  of  his  Viking 
ancestors  by  the  sea-god.  But  though  he  had  all  these 
things,  and  was  the  most  powerful  man  in  the  kingdom, 
yet  he  was  always  sad,  for  he  could  not  forget  the  old 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  27 

days  with  Ingeborg.  So  one  day  he  crossed  this  fjord  to 
Bele's  grave,  close  to  Balholm,  where  Ingeborg's  two 
brothers,  Helge  and  Halfdan,  were  holding  an  assembly 
of  the  people,  and  he  boldly  asked  for  Ingeborg's  hand. 
Helge,  the  king,  was  furious,  and  rejected  him  with  scorn, 
and  Frithiof,  who  would  not  allow  even  a  king  to  insult 
him,  drew  his  sword,  and  with  one  blow  smote  the  king's 
shield,  which  hung  on  a  tree,  in  two  pieces.  Soon  after 
this  the  good  King  Ring,  of  the  far  North,  who  had  lost 
his  wife,  became  a  suitor  for  Ingeborg's  hand  ;  but  Helge 
and  Halfdan  insulted  his  messengers,  and  a  war  was  the 
consequence.  When  Frithiof  heard  the  news  of  the  war, 
he  was  sitting  with  his  friend  at  a  game  of  chess  ;  he  re- 
fused to  help  Helge  and  Halfdan,  but  knowing  that  Inge- 
borg  had  been  sent  for  safety  to  the  sacred  grove  of  Bal- 
der, he  went  to  see  her  in  Ellida,  though  there  was  a  law 
that  whoever  ventured  to  approach  the  grove  by  water 
should  be  put  to  death.  Now  Ingeborg  had  always  loved 
him,  and  she  agreed  to  be  betrothed  to  him,  and  taking 
leave  of  her,  Frithiof  went  with  all  haste  to  tell  her 
brothers.  This  time,  also,  there  was  a  great  assembly  at 
Bele's  grave,  and  again  Frithiof  asked  for  the  hand  of 
Ingeborg,  and  promised  that,  if  Helge  would  consent  to 
their  betrothal,  he  would  fight  for  him.  But  Helge,  in- 
stead of  answering  him,  asked  if  he  had  not  been  to  the 
sacred  grove  of  Balder,  contrary  to  the  law  ?  Then  all 
the  people  shouted  to  him,  '  Say  no,  Frithiof !  Say  no, 
and  Ingeborg  is  yours.'  But  Frithiof  said  that  though  his 
happiness  hung  on  that  one  word  he  would  not  tell  a  lie, 
that  in  truth  he  had  been  to  Balder's  Temple,  but  that  his 
presence  had  not  defiled  it,  that  he  and  Ingeborg  had 
prayed  together,  and  had  planned  this  offer  of  peace. 
But  the  people  forsook  him,  and  King  Helge  banished 
him  until  he  should  bring  back  the  tribute  due  from 
Angantyr  of  the  Western  Isles  ;  and  every  one  knew  that 
if  he  escaped  with  his  life  on  such  an  errand,  it  would  be 
a  wonder.  Once  again  Frithiof  saw  Ingeborg,  and  he 
begged  her  to  come  with  him  in  his  ship  Ellida,  but  Inge- 
borg, though  she  loved  him,  thought  that  she  owed  obedi- 
ence to  her  brothers,  and  tKiy  bade  each  other  farewell ; 
but  before  he  went,  Frithiof  clasped  on  her  arm  the  won- 
derful bracelet.  So  then  they  parted,  and  Frithiof  sailed 
away,  and  had  more  adventures  than  I  can  tell  you,  but 
at  last  he  returned  with  the  tribute  money,  and  now  he. 


28  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

thought  Ingeborg  would,  indeed,  be  his.  But  when  he 
came  in  sight  of  Framnaes,  he  found  that  his  house  and 
everything  belonging  to  him  had  been  burned  to  the 
ground.'' 

"No,  no,  Frithiof,  there  was  his  horse  and  his  dog  left," 
corrected  Sigrid.  "  Don't  you  remember  how  they  came 
up  to  him  ?  " 

"  So  they  did,  but  all  else  was  gone  ;  and,  worst  of  all, 
Ingeborg,  they  told  him,  had  been  forced  by  her  brothers 
to  marry  King  Ring,  who,  if  she  had  not  become  his  wife, 
would  have  taken  the  kingdom  from  Helge  and  Halfdan. 
Then  Frithiof  was  in  despair,  and  cried  out,  '  Who  dare 
speak  to  me  of  the  fidelity  of  women  ? '  And  it  so  hap- 
pened that  that  very  day  was  Midsummer  Day,  and  he 
knew  that  King  Helge,  Ingeborg's  brother,  would  be  in 
the  Temple  of  Balder.  He  sought  him  out,  and  went 
straight  up  to  him,  and  said,  '  You  sent  me  for  the  lost 
tribute  and  I  have  gained  it,  but  either  you  or  I  must  die. 
Come,  fight  me  !  Think  of  Framnaes  that  you  burned  ! 
Think  of  Ingeborg,  whose  life  you  have  spoiled  !  '  And 
then  in  great  wrath  he  flung  the  tribute-money  at  Helge 's 
head,  and  Helge  fell  down  senseless.  Just  then  Frithiof 
caught  sight  of  the  bracelet  he  had  given  Ingeborg  on  the 
image  of  Balder,  and  he  tore  it  off,  but  in  so  doing  upset 
the  image,  which  fell  into  the  flames  on  the  altar.  The 
fire  spread,  and  spread  so  that  at  last  the  whole  temple 
was  burned,  and  all  the  trees  of  the  grove.  Next  day 
King  Helge  gave  chase  to  Frithiof,  but  luckily  in  the 
night  Frithiof 's  friend  had  scuttled  all  the  king's  ships,  and 
so  his  effort  failed,  and  Frithiof  sailed  out  to  sea  in  Ellida. 
Then  he  became  a  Viking  and  lived  a  hard  life,  and  won 
many  victories.  At  last  he  came  home  to  Norway  and 
went  to  King  Ring's  court  at  Yuletide,  disguised  as  an 
old  man  ;  but  they  soon  found  out  that  he  was  young 
and  beautiful,  and  he  doffed  his  disguise,  and  Ingeborg 
trembled  as  she  recognized  him.  Ring  knew  him  not, 
but  liked  him  well,  and  made  him  his  guest.  One  day  he 
saved  Ring  when  his  horse  and  sledge  had  fallen  into  the 
water.  But  another  day  it  so  happened  that  they  went 
out  hunting  together,  and  Ring  being  tired  fell  asleep, 
while  Frithiof  kept  guard  over  him.  As  he  watched,  a 
raven  came  and  sang  to  him,  urging  him  to  kill  the  king ; 
but  a  white  bird  urged  him  to  flee  from  temptation,  arid 
Frithiof  drew  his  sword  and  flung  it  far  away  out  of  reach, 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  29 

Then  the  king  opened  his  eyes,  and  told  Frithiof  that  for 
some  time  he  had  known  him,  and  that  he  honored  him 
for  resisting  temptation.  Frithiof,  however,  felt  that  he 
could  no  longer  bear  to  be  near  Ingeborg,  since  she  be- 
longed not  to  him,  and  soon  he  came  to  take  leave  of  her 
and  her  husband.  But  good  King  Ring  said  that  the  time 
of  his  own  death  was  come,  and  he  asked  Frithiof  to  take 
his  kingdom  and  Ingeborg,  and  to  be  good  to  his  son. 
Then  he  plunged  his  sword  in  his  breast,  and  so  died. 
Before  long  the  people  met  to  elect  a  new  king,  and 
would  have  chosen  Frithiof,  but  he  would  only  be  regent 
till  Ring's  son  should  be  of  age,  Then  Frithiof  went 
away  to  his  father's  grave  and  prayed  to  Balder,  and  he 
built  a  wonderful  new  temple  for  the  god,  but  still  peace 
did  not  come  to  him,  And  the  priest  told  him  that  the 
reason  of  this  was  because  he  still  kept  anger  and  hatred 
in  his  heart  toward  Ingeborg's  brothers.  Helge  was  dead, 
but  the  priest  prayed  him  to  be  reconciled  to  Halfdan. 
They  were  standing  thus  talking  in  the  new  temple  when 
Halfdan  unexpectedly  appeared,  and  when  he  caught 
sight  of  his  foe  he  turned  pale  and  trembled.  But  Frithiof, 
who  for  the  first  time  saw  that  forgiveness  is  greater  than 
vengeance,  walked  up  to  the  altar,  placed  upon  it  his 
sword  and  shield,  and  returning,  held  out  his  hand  to 
Halfdan,  and  the  two  were  reconciled.  At  that  moment 
there  entered  the  temple  one  dressed  as  a  bride,  and 
Frithiof  lifted  up  his  eyes  and  saw  that  it  was  Ingeborg 
herself.  And  Halfdan,  his  pride  of  birth  forgotten  and 
his  anger  conquered  by  his  foe's  forgiveness,  led  his  sister 
to  Frithiof  and  gave  her  to  be  his  wife,  and  in  the  new 
Temple  of  Balder  the  Good  the  lovers  received  the  bless- 
ing of  the  priest." 

"  How  well  you  tell  it !  It  is  a  wonderful  story,"  said 
Blanche  ;  and  there  was  real,  genuine  pleasure  in  her 
dark  eyes  as  she  looked  across  at  him. 

It  was  such  a  contrast  to  her  ordinary  life,  this  quiet 
Norway,  where  all  was  so  simple  and  true  and  trust- 
worthy, where  no  one  seemed  to  strain  after  effecta 
And  there  was  something  in  Frithiof's  strength,  and 
spirit,  and  animation,  which  appealed  to  her  greatly. 
"  My  Viking  is  adorable!"  she  used  to  say  to  herself; 
and  gradually  there  stole  into  her  manner  toward  him  a 
sort  of  tender  reverence.  She  no  longer  teased  him  play- 
fully, and  their  talks  together  in  those  long  summer  days 


30  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

became  less  full  of  mirth  and  laughter,  but  more  earnest 
and  absorbing. 

Cecil  saw  all  this  and  she  breathed  more  freely.  "  Cer- 
tainly she  loves  him,"  was  her  reflection. 

Sigrid,  too,  no  longer  doubted  ;  indeed,  Blanche  had 
altogether  won  her  heart,  and  somehow,  whenever  they 
were  together,  the  talk  always  drifted  round  to  Frithiof's 
past,  or  Frithiof's  future,  or  Frithiofs  opinions.  She  was 
very  happy  about  it,  for  she  felt  sure  that  Blanche  would 
be  a  charming  sister-in-law,  and  love  and  hope  seemed  to 
have  developed  Frithiof  in  a  wonderful  way  ;  he  had  sud- 
denly grown  manly  and  considerate,  nor  did  Sigrid  feel, 
as  she  had  feared,  that  his  new  love  interfered  with  his 
love  for  her. 

They  were  bright  days  for  every  one,  those  days  at  Bal- 
holm,  with  their  merry  excursions  to  the  priest's  garden 
and  the  fir-wood,  to  the  saeter  on  the  mountain-side,  and 
to  grand  old  Munkeggen,  whose  heights  towered  above 
the  little  wooden  hotel.  Herr  Falck,  who  had  joined  them 
toward  the  end  of  the  week,  and  who  had  climbed  Mun- 
keggen as  energetically  as  any  one,  was  well  pleased  to 
see  the  turn  affairs  had  taken  ;  and  every  one  was  kind, 
and  discreetly  left  Frithiof  and  Blanche  to  themselves  as 
they  toiled  up  the  mountain-side  ;  indeed,  Knut,  the  land- 
lord's brother,  who  as  usual  had  courteously  offered  his 
services  as  guide,  was  so  thoughtful  for  the  two  lovers 
who  were  lingering  behind,  that  he  remorselessly  hurried 
up  a  stout  old  American  1  'y,  who  panted  after  him,  to 
that  "  Better  resting-place  "  which  he  always  insisted  was 
a  little  farther  on. 

' '  Will  there  be  church  to-morrow  ?  "  asked  Blanche,  as 
they  rested  half-way.  "I  should  so  like  to  go  to  a  Nor- 
wegian service. 

"There  will  be  service  at  some  church  within  reach," 
said  Frithiof ;  "  but  I  do  not  much  advise  you  to  go  ;  it 
will  be  very  hot,  and  the  place  will  be  packed. '' 

"  Why  ?     Are  you  such  a  religious  people  ?  " 

"The  peasants  are,"  he  replied.  "And  of  course  the 
women.  Church-going  and  religion,  that  is  for  women  ; 
we  men  do  not  need  that  sort  of  thing." 

She  was  a  little  startled  by  his  matter-of-fact,  unabashed 
tone. 

"What,  are  you  an  agnostic?  an  atheist?"  she  ex- 
claimed., 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  31 

"No,  no,  not  at  all,"  he  said  composedly.  "I  believe 
in  a  good  Providence,  but  with  so  much  I  am  quite  satis- 
fied, you  see.  What  does  one  need  with  more  ?  To  us 
men  religion,  church-going,  is — is — how  do  you  call  it  in 
English  ?  I  think  you  say  'An  awful  bore.'  Is  it  not  so  ?  " 

The  slang  in  foreign  accent  was  irresistible.  She  was 
a  little  shocked,  but  she  could  not  help  laughing. 

"How  you  Norwegians  speak  out!"  she  exclaimed. 
"Many  Englishmen  feel  that,  but  few  would  say  it  so 
plainly." 

"  So  !  I  thought  an  Englishmen  was  nothing  if  not  can- 
did. But  for  me  I  feel  no  shame.  What  more  would  one 
have  than  to  make  the  most  of  life  ?  That  is  my  religion. 
I  hear  that  in  England  there  is  a  book  to  ask  whether  life 
is  worth  living  ?  For  me  I  can't  understand  that  sort  of 
thing.  It  is  a  question  that  would  never  have  occurred  to 
me.  Only  to  live  is  happiness  enough.  Life  is  such  a 
very  good  thing.  Do  you  not  agree  ?  " 

"  Sometimes,"  she  said  rather  wistfully. 

"Only  sometimes?  No,  no,  always — to  the  last 
breath  !  "  cried  Frithiof. 

"You  say  that  because  things  are  as  you  like  ;  because 
you  are  happy,"  said  Blanche. 

"It  is  true,  I  am  very  happy,"  he  replied.  "Who 
would  not  be  happy  walking  with  you?" 

Something  in  his  manner  frightened  her  a  little.  She 
went  on  breathlessly  and  incoherently. 

"You  wouldn't  say  that  life  is  a  very  good  thing  if  you 
were  like  our  poor  people  in  East  London,  for  instance." 

"Indeed,  no,"  he  said  gravely.  "  That  must  be  a  great 
blot  on  English  life.  Here  in  Norway  we  have  no  ex- 
tremes. No  one  is  very  poor,  and  our  richest  men  have 
only  what  would  be  counted  in  England  a  moderate 
income." 

"  Perhaps  that  is  why  you  are  such  a  happy  people." 

"Perhaps,"  said  Frithiof,  but  he  felt  little  inclined  to 
consider  the  problem  of  the  distribution  of  wealth  just 
then,  and  the  talk  drifted  round  once  more  to  that  absorb- 
ing personal  talk  which  was  much  more  familiar  to  them. 

At  length  the  top  of  the  mountain  was  reached,  and  a 
merry  little  picnic  ensued.  Frithiof  was  the  life  of  the 
party,  and  there  was  much  drinking  of  healths  and  clink- 
ing of  glasses,  and  though  the  cold  was  intense  every  one 
seemed  to  enjoy  it  and  to  make  fun  of  any  sort  of  dis- 
comfort. 


32  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

"Come!"  said  Sigrid  to  Cecil  Boniface,  "you  and  I 
must  add  a  stone  to  the  cairn.  Let  us  drag  up  this  great 
one  and  put  it  on  the  top  together  in  memory  of  our 
friendship. " 

They  stood  laughing  and  panting  under  the  shelter  of 
the  cairn  when  the  stone  was  deposited,  the  merry  voices 
of  the  rest  of  the  party  floating  back  to  them. 

"  Do  you  not  think  we  are  dreadful  chatterers,  we  Nor- 
wegians ?  "  said  Sigrid. 

"I  think  you  are  delightful,"  said  Cecil  simply. 

Something  in  her  manner  touched  and  pleased  Sigrid. 
She  had  grown  to  like  this  quiet  English  girl.  They  were 
silent  for  some  minutes,  looking  over  that  wonderful  ex- 
panse of  blue  fjords  and  hoary  mountains,  flecked  here  and 
there  on  their  somber  heights  by  snowdrifts.  Far  down 
below  them  a  row-boat  could  be  seen  on  the  water,  look- 
ing scarcely  bigger  than  the  head  of  a  pin  ;  and  as  Cecil 
watched  the  lovely  country  steeped  in  the  golden  sun- 
shine of  that  summer  afternoon,  thoughts  of  the  Frithiof 
Saga  came  thronging  through  her  mind,  till  it  almost 
seemed  to  her  that  in  another  moment  she  should  see  the 
dragon  ship  Ellida  winging  her  way  over  the  smooth  blue 
waters. 

Knut  suggested  before  long  that  if  they  were  to  be  home 
in  time  for  supper  it  might  be  best  to  start  at  once,  and 
the  merry  party  broke  up  into  little  groups.  Herr  Falck 
was  deep  in  conversation  with  Mr.  Morgan,  Cyril  and 
Florence  as  usual  kept  to  themselves,  Knut  piloted  the 
American  lady  in  advance  of  the  others,  while  Roy  Boni- 
face joined  his  sister  and  Sigrid,  pausing  on  the  way  fora 
little  snow-balling  in  a  great  snowdrift  just  below  the 
summit.  Little  Swanhild  hesitated  for  a  moment,  longing 
to  walk  with  Blanche,  for  whom  she  had  formed  the  sort 
of  adoring  attachment  with  which  children  of  her  age 
often  honor  some  grown-up  girl ;  but  she  was  laughingly 
carried  off  by  some  good-natured  friends  from  Bergen, 
who  divined  her  intentions,  and  once  more  Frithiof  and 
Blanche  were  left  alone. 

"And  you  must  really  go  on  Monday?"  asked  Frithiof, 
with  a  sigh. 

"Well,"  she  said,  glancing  up  at  him  quickly,  "1  have 
been  very  troublesome  to  you,  I'm  sure — always  needing 
help  in  climbing?  You  will  be  glad  to  get  rid  of  me, 
though  you  would  be  too  polite  to  tell  me  so," 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  33 

"  How  can  you  say  such  things  !  "  he  exclaimed,  and 
again  something  in  his  manner  alarmed  her  a  little.  ' '  You 
know — you  must  know  what  these  days  have  been  to  me." 

The  lovely  color  flooded  her  cheeks,  and  she  spoke 
almost  at  random. 

"After  all  I  believe  I  should  do  better  if  I  trusted  to 
my  alpenstock  !  "  And  laughingly  she  began  to  spring 
down  the  rough  descent,  a  little  proud  of  her  own  grace 
and  agility,  and  a  little  glad  to  baffle  and  tease  him  for  a 
few  minutes. 

"Take  care!  take  care  !"  cried  Frithiof,  hurrying  after 
her.  Then,  with  a  stifled  cry,  he  sprang  forward  to  rescue 
her,  for  the  alpenstock  had  slipped  on  a  stone,  and  she  was 
rolling  down  the  steep  incline.  Even  in  the  terrible  mo- 
ment itself  he  had  time  to  think  of  two  distinct  dangers — 
she  might  strike  her  head  against  one  of  the  bowlders, 
or,  worse  thought  still,  might  be  unchecked,  and  fall  over 
that  side  of  Munkeggen,  which  was  almost  precipitous. 
How  he  managed  it  he  never  realized,  but  love  seemed  to 
lend  him  wings,  and  the  next  thing  he  knew  was  that  he 
was  kneeling  on  the  grass  only  two  or  three  feet  from  the 
sheer  cliff-like  side  with  Blanche  in  his  arms. 

"Are  you  hurt?  "  he  questioned,  breathlessly. 

"No,"  she  replied,  trembling  with  excitement.  "Not 
hurt  at  all,  only  shaken  an'i  startled." 

He  lifted  her  a  litle  farther  from  the  edge.  For  a  min- 
ute she  lay  passively,  then  she  looked  up  into  his  eyes. 

"  How  strong  you  are,"  she  said,  "and  how  cleverly 
you  caught  me  !  Yet  now  that  it  is  over  you  look  quite 
haggard  and  white.  I  am  really  not  hurt  at  all.  It  pun- 
ished me  well  for  thinking  I  could  get  on  without  you. 
You  see  I  couldn't !  "  and  a  lovely,  tender  smile  dawned 
in  her  eyes. 

She  sat  up  and  took  off  her  hat,  smoothing  back  her  dis- 
ordered hair.  A  sort  of  terror  seized  Frithiof  that  in 
another  minute  she  would  propose  going  on,  and  urged 
by  this  fear,  he  spoke  rapidly  and  impetuously. 

"  If  only  I  might  always  serve  you  !  "  he  cried.  "Oh, 
Blanche,  I  love  you  !  I  love  you  !  Will  you  not  trust 
yourself  to  me  ?  " 

Blanche  had  received  already  several  offers  of  marriage ; 
they  had  been  couched  in  much  better  terms,  but  they 
had  lacked  the  passionate  ardor  of  Frithiofs  manner. 
All  in  a  moment  she  was  conquered;  she  could  not 


34  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

even  make  a  feint  of  a  resistance,  but  just  put  her  hand 
in  his. 

"  I  will  always  trust  you,"  she  faltered. 

Then  as  she  felt  his  strong  arm  round  her  and  his  kisses 
on  her  cheek,  there  flashed  through  her  mind  a  descrip- 
tion she  had  once  read  of — 

"  A  strong  man  from  the  north, 
Light-locked,  with  eyes  of  dangerous  gray." 

It  was  a  love  worth  having,  she  thought  to  herself;  a  love 
to  be  proud  of ! 

"  But,  Frithiof,"  she  began,  after  a  timeless  pause,  "  we 
must  keep  our  secret  just  for  a  little  while.  You  see  my 
father  is  not  here,  and " 

"  Let  me  write  to  him  and  ask  his  consent,"  exclaimed 
Frithiof. 

"No,  no,  do  not  write.  Come  over  to  England  in  Oc- 
tober and  see  him  yourself,  that  will  be  so  much  better." 

"  Must  we  wait  so  long  ? "  said  Frithiof,  his  face  cloud- 
ing. 

"It  is  only  a  few  weeks ;  papa  will  not  be  at  home  till 
then.  Every  one  is  away  from  London  you  know.  Don't 
look  so  anxious ;  I  do  not  know  your  face  when  it  isn't 
happy — you  were  never  meant  to  be  grave.  As  for  papa, 
I  can  make  him  do  exactly  what  I  like,  you  need  not  be 
afraid  that  he  will  not  consent.  Come  !  I  have  promised 
to  trust  to  you  and  yet  you  doubt  me." 

"  Doubt  you  !  "  he  cried.  "Never  !  I  trust  you  before 
all  the  world ;  and  if  you  tell  me  to  wait — why  then — I 
must  obey. " 

"How  I  love  you  for  saying  that,"  cried  Blanche, 
clinging  to  him.  "To  think  that  you  who  are  so  strong 
should  say  that  to  me  !  It  seems  wonderful.  But,  indeed, 
indeed,  you  need  not  doubt  me.  I  love  you  with  my  whole 
heart.  I  love  you  as  I  never  thought  it  possible  to  love." 

Frithiof  again  clasped  her  in  his  arms,  and  there  came 
to  his  mind  the  sweet  words  of  Uhland — 

"  Gestorben  war  ich 
Vor  Liebeswonn, 
Begraben  lag  ich 
In  Ihren  Armen ; 
Erwechet  ward  ich 
Von  ihren  Kiissen 
Den  Himmel  sah  ich 
In  ihren  Augen." 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  35 


CHAPTER  IV. 

"WE  were  beginning  to  think  some  accident  had  hap- 
pened to  you,"  said  Sigrid,  who  stood  waiting  at  the  door 
of  the  hotel. 

"And  so  it  did,"  said  Blanche  laughing.  "I  think  I 
should  have  broken  my  neck  if  it  hadn't  been  for  your 
brother.  It  was  all  the  fault  of  this  treacherous  alpen- 
stock which  played  me  false." 

And  then  with  a  sympathetic  little  group  of  listeners, 
Blanche  gave  a  full  account  of  her  narrow  escape. 

"And  you  are  really  not  hurt  at  all?  Not  too  much 
shaken  to  care  to  dance  to-night?" 

' '  Not  a  bit, "  said  Blanche  merrily.  ' '  And  you  promised 
to  put  on  your  peasant  costume  and  show  us  the  spring 
dans,  you  know." 

"So  I  did.  I  must  make  haste  and  dress,  then,"  and 
Sigrid  ran  upstairs,  appearing  again  before  long  in  a 
simply-made  dark  skirt,  white  sleeves  and  chemisette,  and 
red  bodice,  richly  embroidered  in  gold.  Her  beautiful 
hair  was  worn  in  two  long  plaits  down  her  back,  and  the 
costume  suited  her  to  perfection.  There  followed  a  merry 
supper  in  the  dependence  where  all  meals  were  served, 
then  every  one  adjourned  to  the  hotel  salon,  the  tables  and 
chairs  were  hastily  pushed  aside,  and  dancing  began. 

Herr  Falck's  eyes  rested  contentedly  on  the  slim'  little 
figure  in  the  maize-colored  dress  who  so  often  danced  with 
his  son  ;  and,  indeed,  Blanche  looked  more  lovely  than 
ever  that  evening,  for  happiness  and  excitement  had 
brightened  her  dark  eyes,  and  deepened  the  glow  of  color 
in  her  cheeks.  The  father  felt  proud,  too,  of  his  children, 
when,  in  response  to  the  general  entreaty,  Frithiof  and 
Sigrid  danced  the  spring  dans  together  with  its  graceful 
evolutions  and  quaint  gestures.  Then  nothing  would  do 
but  Frithiof  must  play  to  them  on  the  violin,  after  which 
Blanche  volunteered  to  teach  every  one  Sir  Roger  de 
Coverley,  and  old  and  young  joined  merrily  in  the  coun- 
try dance,  and  so  the  evening  passed  on  all  too  rapidly  to 
its  close.  It  was  a  scene  which  somehow  lived  on  in 
Cecil's  memory  ;  the  merry  dancers,  the  kindly  landlord, 
Ole  Kvikne  sitting  near  the  door  and  watching  them,  the 


36  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

expression  of  content  visible  in  Herr  Falck's  face  as  he  sat 
beside  him,  the  pretty  faces  and  picturesque  attire  of  Sig- 
rid  and  Swanhild,  the  radiant  beauty  of  Blanche  Morgan, 
the  unclouded  happiness  of  Frithiof. 

The  evening  had  done  her  good,  its  informality,  its 
hearty  unaffected  happiness  and  merriment  made  it  a 
strange  contrast  to  any  other  dance  she  could  recollect ; 
yet  even  here  there  was  a  slight  shadow.  She  could  not 
forget  those  words  which  she  had  overheard  on  board  the 
steamer,  could  not  get  rid  of  the  feeling  that  some  trouble 
hung  over  the  Falck  family,  and  that  hidden  away,  even 
in  this  Norwegian  paradise,  there  lurked  somewhere  the 
inevitable  serpent.  Even  as  she  mused  over  it,  Frithiof 
crossed  the  room  and  made  his  bow  before  her,  and  in 
another  minute  had  whirled  her  off.  Happiness  shone  in 
his  eyes,  lurked  in  the  tones  of  his  voice,  added  fresh 
spirit  to  his  dancing,  she  thought  she  had  never  before 
seen  such  an  incarnation  of  perfect  content.  They  talked 
of  Norwegian  books,  and  her  interest  in  his  country  seemed 
to  please  him. 

"  You  can  easily  get  English  translations  of  our  best 
novelists,"  he  said.  "You  should  read  Alexander  Kiel- 
land's  books,  and  Bjornsen's.  I  have  had  a  poem  of 
Bjornsen's  ringing  all  day  in  my  head,  we  will  make 
Sigrid  say  it  to  us,  for  I  only  know  'the  chorus." 

Then  as  the  waltz  came  to  an  end  he  led  her  toward  his 
sister,  who  was  standing  with  Roy  near  the  piano. 

"We  want  you  to  say  us  Bjornsen's  poem,  Sigrid,  in 
which  the  refrain  is,  'To-day  is  just  a  day  to  my  mind.' 
I  can't  remember  anything  but  the  chorus." 

"  But  it  is  rather  a  horrid  little  poem,"  said  Sigrid, 
hesitating. 

"  Oh,  let  as  have  it,  please  let  us  have  it,"  said 
Blanche,  joining  them.  "You  have  made  me  curious 
now." 

So  Sigrid,  not  liking  to  refuse,  repeated  first  the  poem 
itself  and  then  the  English  translation. 

"  The  fox  lay  under  the  birch-tree's  root 

Beside  the  heather; 
And  the  hare  bounded  with  lightsome  foot 

Over  the  heather; 
'To-day  is  just  a  day  to  my  mind, 
All  sunny  before  and  sunny  behind 

Over  the  heather  1  V 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  37 

"  And  the  fox  laughed  under  the  birch-tree's  root 

Beside  the  heather ; 
And  the  hare  frolicked  with  heedless  foot 

Over  the  heather ; 
'I'm  so  glad  about  everything  ! ' 
*  So  that  is  the  way  you  dance  and  spring 

Over  the  heather ! ' 

"  And  the  fox  lay  in  wait  by  the  birch-tree's  root 

Beside  the  heather  ; 
And  the  hare  soon  tumbled  close  to  his  foot 

Over  the  heather ; 

'  Why,  bless  me  1  is  that  you,  my  dear  1 
However  did  you  come  dancing  here 

Over  the  heather?'" 

"I  had  forgotten  that  it  ended  so  tragically,"  said 
Frithiof,  with  a  slight  shrug  of  the  shoulders.  "Well, 
never  mind,  it  is  only  a  poem  ;  let  us  leave  melancholy 
to  poets  and  novelists,  and  enjoy  real  life." 

Just  then  a  polka  was  struck  up  and  he  hastily  made  his 
bow  to  Blanche. 

"And  yet  one  needs  a  touch  of  tragedy  in  real  life," 
she  observed,  "  or  it  becomes  so  dreadfully  prosaic." 

' '  Oh, "  said  Frithiof,  laughing,  as  he  bore  her  off ;  "  then 
for  heaven's  sake  let  us  be  prosaic  to  the  end  of  the 
chapter. " 

Cecil  heard  the  words,  they  seemed  to  her  to  fit  in  un- 
cannily with  the  words  of  the  poem  ;  she  could  not  have 
explained,  and  she  did  not  try  to  analyze,  the  little  thrill 
of  pain  that  shot  through  her  heart  at  the  idea.  Neither 
could  she  have  justified  to  herself  the  shuddering  repulsion 
she  felt  when  Cyril  Morgan  drew  near,  intercepting  her 
view  of  Frithiof  and  Blanche. 

"May  I  have  the  pleasure  of  this  dance?"  he  said,  in 
his  condescending  tone. 

"Thank  you,  but  I  am  so  tired,"  she  replied.  "Too 
tired  for  any  more  to-night." 

"  Yes, "  said  Sigrid,  glancing  at  her.  "You  look  worn 
out.  Munkeggen  is  a  tiring  climb.  Let  us  come  up- 
stairs, it  is  high  time  that  naughty  little  sister  of  mine  was 
in  bed." 

"The  reward  of  virtue,"  said  Cyril  Morgan,  rejoining 
his  cousin  Florence.  "I  have  been  polite  to  the  little 
bourgeoise  and  it  has  cost  me  nothing.  It  is  always  best 
in  a  place  like  this  to  be  on  good  terms  with  every  one. 
We  shall  never  be  likely  to  come  across  these  people 
again,  the  acquaintance  is  not  likely  to  bore  us." 


38  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

His  words  were  perfectly  true.  That  curiously  assorted 
gathering  of  different  nationalities  would  never  again 
meet,  and  yet  those  days  of  close  intimacy  were  destined 
to  influence  forever,  either  for  good  or  for  evil,  the  lives  of 
each  one. 

All  through  the  Sunday  Blanche  had  kept  in  bed,  for 
though  the  excitement  had  kept  her  up  on  the  previous 
night,  she  inevitably  suffered  from  the  effects  of  her  fall. 
It  was  not  till  the  Monday  morning,  just  before  the  arrival 
of  the  steamer,  that  Frithiof  could  find  the  opportunity  for 
which  he  had  impatiently  waited.  They  walked  through 
the  little  garden,  ostensibly  to  watch  for  the  steamer  from 
the  mound  by  the  flagstaff,  but  they  only  lingered  there 
for  a  minute,  glancing  anxiously  down  the  fjord  where  in 
the  distance  could  be  seen  the  unwelcome  black  speck. 
On  the  farther  side  of  the  mound,  down  among  the  trees 
and  bushes,  was  a  little  sheltered  seat.  It  was  there  that 
they  spent  their  last  moments,  there  that  Blanche  listened 
to  his  eager  words  of  love,  there  that  she  again  bade  him 
wait  till  October,  at  the  same  time  giving  him  such  hope 
and  encouragement  as  must  surely  have  satisfied  the  most 
exigeant  lover. 

All  too  soon  the  bustle  of  departure  reached  them,  and 
the  steam-whistle — most  hateful  and  discordant  of  sounds 
— rang  and  resounded  among  the  mountains. 

"I  must  go,"  she  exclaimed,  "  or  they  will  be  coming 
to  look  for  me.  This  is  our  real  good-bye.  On  the 
steamer  it  will  be  just  a  handshake,  but  now — '' 

And  she  lifted  a  lovely,  glowing  face  to  his. 

Then,  presently,  as  they  walked  down  to  the  little  pier, 
she  talked  fast  and  gayly  of  all  they  would  do  when  he 
came  to  England  ;  she  talked  because,  for  once,  he  was 
absolutely  silent,  and  because  she  was  afraid  that  her  uncle 
would  guess  their  secret ;  perhaps  it  was  a  relief  to  her 
that  Frithiof  volunteered  to  run  back  to  the  hotel  for  Mr. 
Morgan's  opera-glass  which  had  been  left  by  mistake  in  the 
salon,  so  that,  literally,  there  was  only  time  for  the  briefest 
of  farewells  on  the  steamer.  He  went  through  it  all  in  a 
business-like  fashion,  smiling  mechanically  in  response  to 
the  good  wishes,  then,  with  a  heavy  heart  stepping  on  shore. 
Herr  Falck,  who  was  returning  to  Bergen  by  the  same 
boat  which  took  the  other  travelers  only  as  far  as  Vadheim, 
was  not  ill-pleased  to  see  his  son's  evident  dejection, 
he  stood  by  the  bulwarks  watching  him,  and  saying  a 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  39 

word  or  two  now  and  then  to  Blanche,  who  was  close  by 
him. 

"Why,  see!"  he  exclaimed,  "the  fellow  is  actually 
coming  on  board  again.  We  shall  be  carrying  him  away 
with  us  if  he  doesn't  take  care." 

"A  thousand  pardons  !  "  Frithiof  had  exclaimed,  shak- 
ing hands  with  Cecil  and  Roy  Boniface.  "I  did  not  see 
you  before.  A  pleasant  journey  to  you.  You  must  come 
again  to  Norway  some  day,  and  let  us  all  meet  once 
more." 

"  Vaer  saagodf"  exclaimed  one  of  the  sailors;  and 
Frithiof  had  to  spring  down  the  gangway. 

"To  our  next  merry  meeting,"  said  Roy,  lifting  his  hat ; 
and  then  there  was  a  general  waving  of  handkerchiefs 
from  the  kindly  little  crowd  on  the  pier  and  from  the  part- 
ing guests,  and,  in  all  the  babel  and  confusion,  Frithiof 
was  conscious  only  of  Blanche's  clear  "  Aufwiedersehn  /" 
and  saw  nothing  but  the  sweet,  dark  eyes,  which  to  the 
very  last  dwelt  on  him. 

"  Well,  that  is  over  !  "  he  said  to  Sigrid,  pulling  himself 
together,  and  stifling  a  sigh. 

"  Perhaps  they  will  come  here  next  year,"  suggested 
Sigrid,  consolingly. 

"Perhaps  I  shall  go  to  England  next  autumn,"  said 
Frithiof,  with  a  smile. 

"So  soon  !  "  she  exclaimed,  involuntarily. 

He  laughed,  for  the  words  were  such  a  curious  con- 
tradiction to  the  ones  which  lurked  in  his  own  mind. 

' '  Oh  !  you  call  two  months  a  short  time !  "  he  ex- 
claimed ;  "  and  to  me  it  seems  an  eternity.  You  will  have 
to  be  very  forbearing,  for  I  warn  you  such  a  waiting  time 
is  very  little  to  my  taste." 

"Then  why  did  you  not  speak  now,  before  she  went 
away  ? " 

"You  wisest  of  advisers  !"  he  said  with  a  smile,  "I 
did  speak  yesterday." 

"Yesterday!"  she  cried  eagerly.  "Yesterday,  on 
Munkeggen  ? " 

"  Yes  ;  and  all  that  now  remains  is  to  get  Mr.  Morgan's 
consent  to  our  betrothal." 

' '  Oh,  Frithiof,  I  am  so  glad  !  so  very  glad !  How 
pleased  father  will  be  !  I  think  you  must  write  and  let 
him  know." 

"If  he  will  keep  it  quite  secret,"  said  Frithiof;   "but 


40  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

of  course  not  a  word  must  be  breathed  until  her  father  has 
consented..  There  is  no  engagement  as  yet,  only  we  know 
that  we  love  each  other." 

"  That  ought  to  be  enough  to  satisfy  you  till  the  autumn. 
And  it  was  so  nice  of  you  to  tell  me,  Frithiof.  Oh,  I 
don't  think  I  could  have  borne  it  if  you  had  chosen  to 
marry  some  girl  I  didn't  like.  As  for  Blanche,  there  never 
was  any  one  more  sweet  and  lovely." 

It  seemed  that  Frithiofs  happiness  was  to  bring  happi- 
ness to  the  whole  family.  Even  little  Swanhild  guessed 
the  true  state  of  things,  and  began  to  frame  visions  of  the 
happy  future  when  the  beautiful  English  girl  should  be- 
come her  own  sister ;  while  as  to  Herr  Falck,  the  news 
seemed  to  banish  entirely  the  heavy  depression  which  for 
some  time  had  preyed  upon  him.  And  so,  in  spite  of  the 
waiting,  the  time  slipped  by  quickly  to  Frithiof,  the  mere 
thought  of  Blanche's  love  kept  him  rapturously  happy, 
and  at  the  pretty  villa  in  Kalvedalen  there  was  much 
laughter  and  mirth,  and  music  and  singing — much 
eager  expectation  and  hope,  and  much  planning  of  a 
future  life  which  should  be  even  more  full  and  happy. 

At  length,  when  the  afternoons  closed  in  early,  and  the 
long  winter  was  beginning  to  give  signs  of  its  approach, 
Frithiof  took  leave  of  his  home,  and,  on  one  October 
Saturday,  started  on  his  voyage  to  England.  It  was,  in  a 
sense,  the  great  event  of  his  life,  and  they  all  instinctively 
knew  that  it  was  a  crisis,  so  that  Sigrid  drew  aside  little 
Swanhild  at  the  last,  and  left  the  father  and  son  to  have 
their  parting  words  alone. 

"I  look  to  you,  Frithiof,"  the  father  said,  eagerly,  "I 
look  to  you  to  carry  out  the  aims  in  which  I  myself  have 
failed — to  live  the  life  I  could  wish  to  have  lived.  May 
God  grant  you  the  wife  who  will  best  help  you  in  the 
struggle  !  I  sometimes  think,  Frithiof,  that  things  might 
have  gone  very  differently  with  me  had  your  mother  been 
spared. " 

"  Do  you  not  let  this  depression  influence  you  too  much, 
father?  "  said  Frithiof.  "  Why  take  such  a  dark  view  of 
your  own  life  ?  I  shall  only  be  too  happy  if  I  make  as 
much  of  the  world  as  you  have  done.  I  wish  you  could 
have  come  to  England  too.  I  think  you  want  change  and 
rest." 

"Ah!"  said  Herr  Falck,  laughing,  "once  over  there 
you  will  not  echo  that  wish.  No,  no,  you  are  best  by 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  >t 

yourself  when  you  go  a-wooing,  my  son.  Besides,  I 
could  not  possibly  leave  home  just  now ;  we  shall  have 
the  herring-fleet  back  from  Iceland  before  many  days." 

Then,  as  the  signal  was  given  that  all  friends  of  the 
passengers  must  leave  the  steamer,  he  took  Frithiofs  hand 
and  held  it  fast  in  his. 

"  God  bless  you,  my  boy — I  think  you  will  bring  honor 
to  our  name,  sooner  or  later.  Now,  Sigrid,  wish  him  well, 
and  let  us  be  off." 

He  called  little  Swanhild  to  him,  and  walked  briskly 
down  the  gangway,  then  stood  on  the  quay,  talking  very 
cheerfully,  his  momentary  depression  quite  past.  Before 
long  the  steamer  began  to  glide  off,  and  Frithiof,  even  in 
the  midst  of  his  bright  expectations,  felt  a  pang  as  he 
waved  a  farewell  to  those  he  left  behind  him. 

"A  happy  return  to  Gammle  Norgel"  shouted  Herr 
Falck. 

And  Sigrid  and  Swanhild  stood  waving  their  handker- 
chiefs till  the  steamer  could  no  longer  be  seen. 

"I  am  a  fool  to  mind  going  away,"  reflected  Frithiof. 
"In  three  weeks'  time  I  shall  be  at  home  again.  And  the 
next  time  I  leave  Bergen,  why,  who  knows,  perhaps  it 
will  be  to  attend  my  own  wedding  !  " 

And  with  that  he  began  to  pace  the  deck,  whistling  as 
he  walked,  "  The  Bridal  Song  of  the  "Hardanger." 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  event  to  which  we  have  long  eagerly  looked  for- 
ward is  seldom  all  that  we  have  expected,  and  Frithiof, 
who  for  the  last  two  months  had  been  almost  hourly  re- 
hearsing his  arrival  in  England,  felt  somewhat  depressed 
and  disillusioned  when,  one  chilly  Monday  morning,  he 
first  set  foot  on  English  soil.  The  Southerner,  arriving 
at  Folkstone  or  Dover,  with  their  white  cliffs  and  sunny 
aspect,  gains  a  cheerful  impression  as  he  steps  ashore ; 
but  the  Norwegian,  leaving  behind  him  his  mountains 
and  fjords,  and  coming  straight  to  that  most  dingy  and 
unattractive  town,  Hull,  is  at  a  great  disadvantage. 

A  fine  drizzling  rain  was  falling ;  in  the  early  morning 


42  A  ftARDY  NORSEMAN: 

the  shabby,  dirty  houses  looked  their  very  worst.  Swarms 
of  grimy  little  children  had  been  turned  out  of  their  homes, 
and  were  making  their  way  to  morning  school,  and  hun- 
dreds of  busy  men  and  women  were  hurrying  through 
the  streets,  all  with  worn,  anxious-looking  faces.  As  he 
walked  to  the  railway  station  Frithiof  felt  almost  over- 
powered by  the  desolateness  of  the  place.  To  be  a  mere 
unit  in  this  unthinking,  unheeding  crowd,  to  be  pushed 
and  jostled  by  the  hurrying  passengers,  who  all  walked 
as  if  their  very  lives  depended  on  their  speed,  to  hear 
around  him  the  rapidly  spoken  foreign  language,  with  its 
strange  north  country  accent,  all  made  him  feel  very 
keenly  that  he  was  indeed  a  foreigner  in  a  strange  land. 
He  was  glad  to  be  once  more  in  a  familiar-looking  train, 
and  actually  on  his  way  to  London  ;  and  soon  all  these 
outer  impressions  faded  away  in  the  absorbing  conscious- 
ness that  he  was  actually  on  his  way  to  Blanche — that  on 
the  very  next  day  he  might  hope  to  see  her  again. 

Fortunately  the  Tuesday  proved  to  be  a  lovely,  still, 
autumn  day.  He  did  not  like  to  call  upon  Mr.  Morgan 
till  the  afternoon,  and,  indeed,  thought  that  he  should 
scarcely  find  him  at  home  earlier,  so  he  roamed  about 
London,  and  looked  at  his  watch  about  four  times  an 
hour,  till  at  length  the  time  came  when  he  could  call  a 
hansom  and  drive  to  Lancaster  Gate. 

There  are  some  houses  which  the  moment  you  enter 
them  suggest  to  you  the  idea  of  money.  The  Morgans' 
house  was  one  of  these  ;  everything  was  faultlessly  ar- 
ranged, your  feet  sank  into  the  softest  of  carpets,  you 
were  served  by  the  most  obsequious  of  servants,  all  that 
was  cheap,  or  common,  or  ordinary  was  banished  from 
view,  and  you  felt  that  the  chair  you  sat  on  was  a  very 
superior  chair,  that  all  the  pictures  and  ornaments  were 
the  very  best  that  could  be  bought,  and  that  ordinary 
people  who  could  not  boast  of  a  very  large  income 
were  only  admitted  into  this  aggressively  superior  dwell- 
ing on  sufferance.  With  all  its  grandeur,  it  was  not  a 
house  which  tempted  you  to  break  the  tenth  command- 
ment ;  it  inspired  you  with  a  kind  of  wonder,  and  if  the 
guests  had  truly  spoken  the  thought  which  most  frequently 
occurred  to  them,  it  would  have  been:  "I  wonder  now 
what  he  gave  for  this  ?  It  must  have  cost  a  perfect  fort- 
une !  " 

As  to  Frithiof,  when  he  was  shown  into  the  great  empty 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  43 

drawing  room,  with  its  luxurious  couches  and  divans  and 
its  wonderful  collection  of  the  very  best  upholstery  and 
the  most  telling  works  of  art  he  felt,  as  strongly  as  he  had 
felt  in  the  dirty  streets  of  Hull,  that  he  was  a  stranger  and 
a  foreigner.  In  the  whole  room  there  was  nothing  which 
suggested  to  him  the  presence  of  Blanche  ;  on  the  contrary, 
there  was  everything  which  combated  the  vision  of  those 
days  at  Balholm  and  of  their  sweet  freedom.  He  felt  stifled 
and  involuntarily  crossed  the  room  and  looked  from  the 
window  at  the  green  grass  in  Kensington  Gardens,  and 
the  tall  elm  trees  with  their  varying  autumn  tints. 

Before  many  minutes  had  passed,  however,  his  host 
came  into  the  room,  greeting  him  politely  but  somewhat 
stiffly.  ' '  Glad  to  make  your  acquaintance,"  he  said,  scan- 
ning him  a  little  curiously  as  he  spoke.  "I  heard  of  you, 
of  course,  from  my  brother.  I  am  sure  they  were  all  very 
much  indebted  to  you  for  planning  their  Norwegian  tour 
for  them  so  well." 

Had  he  also  heard  of  him  from  Blanche  ?  Had  she 
indeed  prepared  the  way  for  him  ?  Or  would  his  request 
come  as  a  surprise  ?  These  were  the  thoughts  which 
rushed  through  Frithiofs  mind  as  he  sat  opposite  the  Eng- 
lishman and  noted  his  regular  features,  short,  neat-looking, 
gray  beard,  closely  cropped  hair,  and  rather  cold  eyes. 

Any  one  watching  the  two  could  scarcely  have  conceived 
a  greater  contrast ;  the  young  Norwegian,  eager,  hopeful, 
bearing  in  his  face  the  look  of  one  who  has  all  the  world 
before  him  ;  the  middle-aged  Englishman  who  had  bought 
his  experience,  and  in  whose  heart  enthusiasm,  and  eager 
enjoyment  of  life,  and  confident  belief  in  those  he  encoun- 
tered, had  long  ceased  to  exist.  Nevertheless,  though 
Mr.  Morgan  was  a  hard-headed  and  a  somewhat  cold- 
blooded man,  he  felt  a  little  sorry  for  his  guest,  and  re- 
flected to  himself  that  such  a  fine-looking  fellow  was  far 
more  fit  for  the  post  at  Stavanger  than  his  own  son  Cyril. 

"  It  is  curious  that  you  should  have  come  to-day,"  he 
remarked,  after  they  had  exchanged  the  usual  platitudes 
about  the  weather  and  the  voyage,  and  the  first  impres- 
sions of  England.  "  Only  to-day  the  final  decision  was 
arrived  at  about  this  long  mooted  idea  of  the  new  branch 
of  our  firm  at  Stavanger.  Perhaps  you  have  heard 
rumors  of  it  ?  " 

"I  have  heard  nothing  at  all,"  said  Frithiof.  "My 
father  did  not  even  mention  it." 


44  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

"  It  is  scarcely  possible  that  he  has  heard  nothing  of 
the  idea,"  said  Mr.  Morgan.  "When  I  saw  you  I  half 
thought  he  had  sent  you  over  on  that  very  account.  How- 
ever, you  have  not  as  yet  gone  into  the  business,  I  under- 
stand ? " 

"  I  am  to  be  taken  into  partnership  this  autumn,"  said 
Frithiof.  "I  was  of  age  the  other  day,  and  have  only 
waited  for  that." 

' '  Strange, "  said  Mr.  Morgan,  ' '  that  only  this  very  morn- 
ing the  telegram  should  have  been  sent  to  your  father. 
Had  I  known  you  were  in  England,  I  would  have  waited. 
One  can  say  things  better  face  to  face.  And  yet  I  don't 
know  how  that  could  have  been,  either,  for  there  was  a 
sudden  chance  of  getting  good  premises  at  Stavanger,  and 
delay  was  impossible.  I  shall,  of  course,  write  fully  to 
your  father  by  the  next  mail,  and  you  will  tell  him  that  it 
is  with  great  regret  we  sever  our  connection  with  him." 

Frithiof  was  so  staggered  by  this  unexpected  piece  of 
news,  that  for  a  minute  all  else  was  driven  from  his  mind. 

"  He  will  be  very  sorry  to  be  no  longer  your  agent,"  he 
said. 

"And  I  shall  be  sorry  to  lose  him.  Herr  Falck  has 
always  been  most  honorable.  I  have  the  greatest  respect 
for  him.  Still,  business  is  business  ;  one  can't  afford  to 
sentimentalize  in  life  over  old  connections.  It  is  certainly 
best  in  the  interests  of  our  firm  to  set  up  a  branch  of  our 
own  with  its  headquarters  at  Stavanger.  My  son  will  go 
out  there  very  shortly." 

"The  telegram  is  only  just  sent,  you  say?"  asked 
Frithiof. 

"The  first  thing  this  morning,"  replied  Mr.  Morgan. 
"It  was  decided  on  last  night.  By  this  time  your  father 
knows  all  about  it ;  indeed,  I  almost  wonder  we  have  had 
no  reply  from  him.  You  must  not  let  the  affair  make  any 
breach  between  us  ;  it  is,  after  all,  a  mere  business  neces- 
sity. I  must  find  out  from  Mrs.  Morgan  what  free  nights 
we  have,  and  you  must  come  and  dine  with  us.  I  will 
write  and  let  you  know.  Have  you  any  particular  busi- 
ness in  London,  or  have  you  only  come  for  the  sake  of 
traveling  ?  " 

"  I  came  to  see  you,  S''r,"  said  Frithiof,  his  heart  beat- 
ing quickly,  though  he  spoke  with  his  usual  directness. 
"I  came  to  ask  your  consent  to  my  betrothal  with  your 
daughter  ?  " 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  45 

"With  my  daughter  ?  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Morgan.  "  Be- 
trothal !  What,  in  heaven's  name,  can  you  be  thinking 
of?" 

"I  do  not,  of  course,  mean  that  there  was  a  definite 
engagement  between  us,"  said  Frithiof,  speaking  all  the 
more  steadily  because  of  this  repulse.  "Of  course  we 
could  not  have  thought  of  that  until  we  had  asked  your 
consent.  We  agreed  that  I  should  come  over  this  autumn 
and  speak  to  you  about  it ;  nothing  passed  at  Balholm  but 
just  the  assurance  that  we  loved  each  other." 

"  Loved  each  other  !  "  ejaculated  Mr.  Morgan,  begin- 
ning to  pace  the  room  with  a  look  of  perplexity  and  an- 
noyance. "What  folly  will  the  girl  commit  next  ?  " 

At  this  Frithiof  also  rose  to  his  feet,  the  angry  color  ris- 
ing to  his  face.  "  I  should  never  have  spoken  of  my  love 
to  your  daughter  had  I  not  been  in  a  position  to  support 
her,"  he  said  hotly.  "By  your  English  standards  I  may 
not,  perhaps,  be  very  rich,  but  our  firm  is  one  of  the  lead- 
ing firms  in  Bergen.  We  come  of  a  good  old  Norwegian 
family.  Why  should  it  be  a  folly  for  your  daughter  to 
love  me  ? " 

"You  misunderstand  me,"  said  Mr.  Morgan.  "  I  don't 
wish  to  say  one  word  against  yourself.  However,  as  you 
have  alluded  to  the  matter  I  must  tell  you  plainly  that  I 
expect  my  daughter  to  make  a  very  different  marriage. 
Money  I  can  provide  her  with.  Her  husband  will  supply 
her  with  a  title." 

"What  !  "  cried  Frithiof  furiously,  "you  will  force  her 
to  marry  some  wretched  aristocrat  whom  she  can't  pos- 
sibly love  ?  For  the  sake  of  a  mere  title  you  will  ruin  her 
happiness." 

"I  shall  certainly  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  said  the 
Englishman,  with  a  touch  of'dignity. 

"Sit  down,  Herr  Falck,  and  listen  to  me.  I  would 
have  spared  you  this  had  it  been  possible.  You  are  very 
young,  and  you  have  taken  things  for  granted  too  much. 
You  believed  that  the  first  pretty  girl  that  flirted  with  you 
was  your  future  wife.  I  can  quite  fancy  that  Blanche 
was  well  pleased  to  have  you  dancing  attendance  on  her 
in  Norway  ;  but  it  was  on  her  part  nothing  but  a  flirtation  ; 
she  does  not  care  for  you  in  the  least." 

"  I  do  not  believe  it,"  said  Frithiof,  hotly. 

"  Don't  think  that  I  wish  to  excuse  her,"  said  Mr.  Mor- 
gan. "She  is  very  much  to  be  blamed.  But  she  is  pretty 


46  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

and  winsome,  she  knows  her  own  power,  and  it  pleases 
her  to  use  it ;  women  are  all  of  them  vain  and  selfish. 
What  do  they  care  for  the  suffering  they  cause  ? " 

"You  shall  not  say  such  things  of  her,"  cried  Frithiof, 
desperately.  "  It  is  not  true.  It  can't  be  true  !  " 

His  face  had  grown  deathly  pale,  and  he  was  trem- 
bling with  excitement.  Mr.  Morgan  felt  sorry  for  him. 

"  My  poor  fellow,"  he  said,  kindly,  "don't  take  it  so 
hard.  You  are  not  the  first  man  who  has  been  deceived. 
I  am  heartily  sorry  that  my  child's  foolish  thoughtlessness 
should  have  given  you  this  to  bear.  But,  after  all,  it's  a 
lesson  every  one  has  to  learn  ;  you  were  inexperienced 
and  young." 

"  It  is  not  possible  !  "  repeated  Frithiof,  in  terrible  agita- 
tion, remembering  vividly  her  promises,  her  words  of  love, 
her  kisses,  the  expression  of  her  eyes,  as  she  had  yielded 
to  his  eager  declaration  of  love.  "I  will  never  believe  it 
possible  till  I  hear  it  from  her  own  lips. " 

With  a  gesture  of  annoyance,  Mr.  Morgan  crossed  the 
room  and  rang  the  bell.  "Well,  let  it  be  so,  then,"  he 
said,  coldly.  "Blanche  has  treated  you  ill ;  I  don't  doubt 
it  for  a  moment,  and  you  have  every  right  to  hear  the 
explanation  from  herself."  Then,  as  the  servant  appeared, 
"  Tell  Miss  Morgan  that  I  want  her  in  the  drawing-room. 
Desire  her  to  come  at  once." 

The  minutes  of  waiting  which  followed  were  the  worst 
Frithiof  had  ever  lived  through.  Doubt,  fear,  indigna- 
tion, and  passionate  love  strove  together  in  his  heart, 
while  mingled  with  all  was  the  oppressive  consciousness 
of  his  host's  presence,  and  of  the  aggressive  superiority 
of  the  room  and  its  contents. 

Perhaps  the  waiting  was  not  altogether  pleasant  to 
Mr.  Morgan  ;  he  poked  the  fire  and  moved  about  rest- 
lessly. When,  at  last,  light  footsteps  were  heard  on  the 
stairs,  and  Blanche  entered  the  room,  he  turned  toward 
her  with  evident  displeasure  in  his  face. 

She  wore  a  dress  of  reddish  brown  with  a  great  deal  of 
plush  about  it,  and  something  in  the  way  it  was  made 
suggested  the  greatest  possible  contrast  to  the  little  simple 
traveling-dress  she  had  worn  in  Norway.  Her  eyes  were 
bright  and  eager,  her  loveliness  as  great  as  ever. 

"You  wanted  me,  papa?"  she  began;  then,  as  she 
came  forward  and  recognized  Frithiof,  she  gave  a  little 
start  of  dismay,  and  the  color  burned  in  her  cheeks. 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  47 

"Yes,  I  wanted  you,"  said  Mr.  Morgan,  gravely. 
"  Herr  Falck's  son  has  just  arrived." 

She  struggled  hard  to  recover  herself. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you  again,"  she  said,  forcing 
up  a  little  artificial  laugh,  and  holding  out  her  hand. 

But  Frithiof  had  seen  her  first  expression  of  dismay, 
and  it  had  turned  him  into  ice  :  he  would  not  take  her 
proffered  hand,  but  only  bowed  formally.  There  was  a 
painful  silence. 

"This  is  not  the  first  time,  Blanche,  that  you  have 
learned  what  comes  of  playing  with  edged  tools,"  said 
Mr.  Morgan,  sternly.  "I  heard  from  others  that  you  had 
flirted  with  Herr  Falck's  son  in  Norway ;  I  now  learn 
that  it  was  by  your  own  suggestion  that  he  came  to 
England  to  ask  my  consent  to  an  engagement,  and  that 
you  allowed  him  to  believe  that  you  loved  him.  What 
have  you  to  say  for  yourself?  " 

While  her  father  spoke,  Blanche  had  stood  by  with  bent 
head  and  downcast  eyes  ;  at  this  direct  question  she 
looked  up  for  a  moment. 

"  I  thought  I  did  care  for  him,  just  at  the  time,"  she 
faltered.  "It — it  was  a  mistake." 

"Why,  then,  did  you  not  write  and  tell  him  so ?  It 
was  the  least  you  could  have  done,"  said  her  father. 

"It  was  such  a  difficult  letter  to  write,"  she  faltered. 
"I  kept  on  putting  it  off,  and  hoping  that  he,  too,  would 
find  out  his  mistake.  And  then  sometimes  I  thought  I 
could  explain  it  all  better  to  him  if  he  came." 

Frithiof  made  a  step  or  two  forward  ;  his  face  was  pale 
and  rigid ;  the  blue  seemed  to  have  died  out  of  his  eyes 
— they  looked  like  steel.  "I  wait  for  your  explanation," 
he  said,  in  a  voice  which,  in  spite  of  its  firmness,  be- 
trayed intense  agitation. 

Mr.  Morgan,  without  a  word,  quitted  the  room,  and 
the  two  were  left  alone.  Again  there  was  a  long  op- 
pressive silence.  Then,  with  a  sob,  Blanche  turned 
away,  sinking  down  on  an  ottoman,  and  covering  her 
face  with  her  hands.  Her  tears  instantly  melted  Frithiof; 
his  indignation  and  wounded  pride  gave  place  to  love 
and  tenderness  ;  a  sort  of  wild  hope  rose  in  his  mind. 

"Blanche!  Blanche!"  he  cried.  "It  isn't  true!  It 
can't  be  all  over  !  Others  have  been  urging  you  to  make 
some  grand  marriage — to  be  the  wife,  perhaps,  of  some 
rich  nobleman.  But  he  cannot  love  you  as  I  love  you. 


48  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

Oh !  have  you  forgotten  how  you  told  me  I  might  trust  to 
you  ?  There  is  not  a  moment  since  then  that  you  have 
not  been  in  my  thoughts. " 

"I  hoped  so  you  would  forget,"  she  sobbed. 

"How  could  I  forget?  What  man  could  help  remem- 
bering you  day  and  night  ?  Oh,  Blanche  !  don't  you 
understand  that  I  love  you  ?  I  love  you  ?  " 

"I  understand  only  too  well,"  she  said,  glancing  at 
him,  her  dark  eyes  brimming  over  with  tears. 

He  drew  nearer. 

"And  you  will  love  me  once  more,"  he  said,  passion- 
ately. "You  will  not  choose  rank  and  wealth;  you 
will—" 

"Oh,  hush!  hush!"  she  cried.  "It  has  all  been  a 
dreadful  mistake.  I  never  really  loved  you.  Oh,  don't 
look  like  that !  I  was  very  dull  in  Norway — there  was  no 
one  else  but  you.  I  am  sorry  ;  very  sorry." 

He  started  back  from  her  as  if  she  had  dealt  him  some 
mortal  blow,  but  Blanche  went  on,  speaking  quickly  and 
incoherently,  never  looking  in  his  face. 

"After  we  went  away  I  began  to  see  all  the  difficulties 
so  plainly — our  belonging  to  different  countries,  and  be- 
ing accustomed  to  different  things  ;  but  still  I  did  really 
think  I  liked  you  till  we  got  to  Christiania.  There,  on  the 
steamer  coming  home,  I  found  that  it  had  all  been  a  mis- 
take." 

She  paused.  All  this  time  she  had  carefully  kept  the 
fingers  of  her  left  hand  out  of  view  ;  the  position  was  too 
constrained  not  to  attract  Frithiof  s  notice. 

He  remembered  that,  in  the  wearing  of  betrothal  or 
wedding  rings,  English  custom  reversed  the  Norwegian, 
and  turned  upon  her  almost  fiercely. 

"Why  do  you  try  to  hide  that  from  me?"  he  cried. 
"  Are  you  already  betrothed  to  this  other  man  ?  " 

"It  was  only  last  Sunday,"  she  sobbed.  "And  I  meant 
to  write  to  you  ;  I  did  indeed." 

Once  more  she  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  this 
time  not  attempting  to  hide  from  Frithiof  the  beautiful 
circlet  of  brilliants  on  her  third  finger. 

It  seemed  to  him  that  giant  hands  seized  on  him  then, 
and  crushed  out  of  him  his  very  life.  Yet  the  pain  of 
living  went  on  remorselessly,  and  as  if  from  a  very 
great  distance  he  heard  Blanche's  voice. 

"  I  am  engaged  to  Lord  Romiaux,"  she  said.     "He  had 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  49 

been  in  Norway  on  a  fishing  tour,  but  it  was  on  the 
steamer  that  we  first  met.  And  then  almost  directly  I 
knew  that  at  Munkeggen  it  had  all  been  quite  a  mistake, 
and  that  I  had  never  really  loved  you.  We  met  again  at 
one  of  the  watering-places  in  September,  but  it  was  only 
settled  the  day  before  yesterday.  I  wish — oh,  how  I  wish 
— that  I  had  written  to  tell  you  !  " 

She  stood  up  impulsively,  and  drew  nearer  to  him. 

"  Is  there  nothing  I  can  do  to  make  up  for  my  mis- 
take ? "  she  said,  lifting  pathetic  eyes  to  his. 

"  Nothing,"  he  said,  bitterly. 

"Oh,  don't  think  badly  of  me  for  it,"  she  pleaded. 
"Don't  hate  me." 

"  Hate  you  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  It  will  be  the  curse  of 
my  life  that  I  love  you — that  you  have  made  me  love 
you." 

He  turned  as  though  to  go  away. 

"Don't  go  without  saying  good-bye,''  she  exclaimed; 
and  her  eyes  said  more  plainly  than  words,  "  I  do  not 
mind  if  you  kiss  me  just  once  more. " 

He  paused,  ice  one  minute,  fire  the  next,  yet  through 
it  all  aware  that  his  conscience  was  urging  him  to  go 
without  delay. 

Blanche  watched  him  tremulously  ;  she  drew  yet 
nearer. 

"Could  we  not  still  be  friends?"  she  said,  with  a  pa- 
thetic little  quiver  in  her  voice. 

"No/'  he  cried,  vehemently,  yet  with  a  certain  dignity 
in  his  manner  ;  "  no,  we  could  not." 

Then,  before  Blanche  could  recover  enough  from  her 
sense  of  humiliation  at  this  rebuff  to  speak,  he  bowed  to 
her  and  left  the  room. 

She  threw  herself  down  on  the  sofa  and  buried  her  face 
in  the  cushions.  "Oh,  what  must  he  think  of  me?  what 
must  he  think  of  me  ?  "  she  sobbed.  "  How  I  wish  I  had 
written  to  him  at  once  and  saved  myself  this  dreadful 
scene  !  How  could  I  have  been  so  silly  !  so  dreadfully 
silly  !  To  be  afraid  of  writing  a  few  words  in  a  letter ! 
My  poor  Viking  !  he  looked  so  grand  as  he  turned  away. 
I  wish  we  could  have  been  friends  still ;  it  used  to  be  so 
pleasant  in  Norway  ;  he  was  so  unlike  other  people  ;  he 
interested  me.  And  now  it  is  all  over,  and  I  shall  never 
be  able  to  meet  him  again.  Oh,  I  have  managed  very 
badly.  If  I  had  not  been  so  imprudent  on  Munkeggen  he 
4 


5° 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 


might  have  been  my  cavalier  all  his  life,  and  I  should 
have  liked  to  show  him  over  here  to  people.  I  should 
have  liked  to  initiate  him  in  everything." 

The  clock  on  the  mantel-piece  struck  five.  She  started 
up  and  ran  across  to  one  of  the  mirrors,  looking  anxiously 
at  her  eyes.  "Oh,  dear!  oh,  dear!  what  shall  I  do?" 
she  thought.  "Algernon  will  be  here  directly,  and  I  have 
made  a  perfect  object  of  myself  with  crying."  Then,  as 
the  door-bell  rang,  she  caught  up  a  couvrette,  sank  down 
on  the  sofa  and  covered  herself  up  picturesquely.  ' '  There 
is  nothing  for  it  but  a  bad  headache,"  she  said  to  herself. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

ON  the  stairs  Frithiof  was  waylaid  by  Mr.  Morgan  ;  it 
was  with  a  sort  of  surprise  that  he  heard  his  own  calm 
replies  to  the  Englishman's  polite  speeches,  and  regrets, 
and  inquiries  as  to  when  he  returned  to  Norway,  for  all  the 
time  his  head  was  swimming,  and  it  was  astonishing  that 
he  could  frame  a  correct  English  phrase.  The  thought 
occurred  to  him  that  Mr.  Morgan  would  be  glad  enough 
to  get  rid  of  him  and  to  put  an  end  to  so  uncomfortable  a 
visit ;  he  could  well  imagine  the  shrug  of  relief  with  which 
the  Englishman  would  return  to  his  fireside,  with  its 
aggressively  grand  fender  and  fire-irons,  and  would  say 
to  himself,  "Well,  poor  devil,  I  am  glad  he  is  gone  !  A 
most  provoking  business  from  first  to  last."  For  to  the 
Morgans  the  affair  would  probably  end  as  soon  as  the 
door  had  closed  behind  him,  but  for  himself  it  would  drag 
on  and  on  indefinitely.  He  walked  on  mechanically  past 
the  great  houses,  which  to  his  unaccustomed  eyes,  looked 
so  palatial ;  every  little  trivial  thing  seemed  to  obtrude 
itself  upon  him ;  he  noticed  the  wan,  haggard-looking 
crossing-sweeper,  who  tried  his  best  to  find  something  to 
sweep  on  that  dry,  still  day  when  even  autumn  leaves 
seldom  fell ;  he  noticed  the  pretty  spire  of  the  church,  and 
heard  the  clock  strike  five,  reflecting  that  one  brief  half- 
hour  had  been  enough  to  change  his  whole  life — to  bring 
him  from  the  highest  point  of  hope  and  eager  anticipation 
to  this  lowest  depth  of  wretchedness.  The  endless  suc- 
cession of  great,  monotonous  houses  grew  intolerable  to 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  51 

him  ;  he  crossed  the  road  and  turned  into  Kensington 
Gardens,  aware,  as  the  first  wild  excitement  died  down 
in  his  heart,  of  a  cold,  desolate  blankness  the  misery  of 
which  appalled  him.  What  was  the  meaning  of  it  all? 
How  could  it  possibly  be  borne  ?  Only  by  degrees  did  it 
dawn  upon  his  overwrought  brain  that  Blanche's  faithless- 
ness had  robbed  him  of  much  more  than  her  love.  It  had 
left  him  stripped  and  wounded  on  the  highway  of  life ;  it 
had  taken  from  him  all  belief  in  woman  ;  it  had  made 
forever  impossible  for  him  his  old  creed  of  the  joy  of  mere 
existence ;  it  had  killed  his  youth.  Was  he  now  to  get 
up,  and  crawl  on,  and  drag  through  the  rest  of  his  life  as 
best  might  be?  Why,  what  was  life  worth  to  him  now? 
He  had  been  a  fool  ever  to  believe  in  it ;  it  was  as  she 
herself  had  once  told  him,  he  had  believed  that  it  was  all 
sufficient  merely  because  he  had  never  known  unhappi- 
ness — never  known  the  agony  that  follows  when,  for — 

"  The  first  time  Nature  says  plain  '  No  ' 
To  some  '  Yes '  in  you,  and  walks  over  you 
In  gorgeous  sweeps  of  scorn." 

His  heart  was  so  utterly  dead  that  he  could  not  even 
think  of  his  home  ;  neither  his  father  nor  Sigrid  rose  before 
him  as  he  looked  down  that  long,  dreary  vista  of  life  that 
lay  beyond.  He  could  see  only  that  Blanche  was  no 
longer  his  ;  that  the  Blanche  he  had  loved  and  believed 
in  had  never  really  existed ;  that  he  had  been  utterly  de- 
ceived, cheated,  defrauded  ;  and  that  something  had  been 
taken  from  him  which  could  never  return. 

"  I  will  not  live  a  day  longer,"  he  said  to  himself;  "not 
an  hour  longer. "  And  in  the  relief  of  having  some  attain- 
able thing  to  desire  ardently,  were  it  only  death  and  anni- 
hilation, he  quickened  his  pace  and  felt  a  sort  of  renewal 
of  energy  and  life  within  him,  urging  him  on,  holding  him 
before  the  one  aim  which  he  thought  was  worth  pursuing. 
He  would  end  it  all  quickly,  he  would  not  linger  on 
weakly  bemoaning  his  fate,  or  railing  at  life  for  having 
failed  him,  and  disappointed  his  hopes  ;  he  would  just  put 
an  end  to  everything  without  more  ado.  As  to  arguing 
with  himself  about  the  right  or  wrong  of  the  matter,  such 
a  notion  never  occurred  to  him,  he  just  walked  blindly  on, 
certain  that  some  opportunity  would  present  itself,  buoyed 
up  by  an  unreasoning  hope  that  death  would  bring  him 
relief, 


52  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

By  this  time  he  had  reached  Hyde  Park,  and  a  vague 
memory  came  back  to  him  ;  he  remembered  that,  as  he 
drove  to  Lancaster  Gate  that  afternoon,  he  had  crossed  a 
bridge.  There  was  water  over  there.  It  should  be  that 
way.  And  he  walked  on  more  rapidly  than  before,  still 
with  an  almost  dazzling  perception  of  all  the  trifling  little 
details,  the  color  of  the  dry,  dusty  road,  the  green  of  the 
turf,  the  dresses  of  those  who  passed  by  him,  the  sound  of 
their  voices,  the  strange  incongruity  of  their  perfectly  un- 
concerned, contented  faces.  He  would  get  away  from  all 
this — would  wait  till  it  was  dusk,  when  he  could  steal 
down  unnoticed  to  the  water.  Buoyed  up  by  this  last 
hope  of  relief,  he  walked  along  the  north  shore  of  the  Ser- 
pentine, passed  the  Receiving  House  of  the  Royal  Hu- 
mane Society,  with  an  unconcerned  thought  that  his  life- 
less body  would  probably  be  taken  there,  passed  the  boat- 
house  with  a  fervent  hope  that  no  one  there  would  try  a 
rescue,  and  at  length,  finding  a  seat  under  a  tree  close  to 
the  water's  edge,  sat  down  to  wait  for  the  darkness.  It 
need  not  be  for  long,  for  already  the  sun  was  setting,  and 
over  toward  the  west  he  could  see  that  behind  the  glow- 
ing orange  and  russet  of  the  autumn  trees  was  a  back- 
ground of  crimson  sky.  The  pretty  little  wooded  island 
and  the  round  green  boat-house  on  the  shore  stood  out  in 
strong  relief;  swans  and  ducks  swam  about  contentedly  ; 
on  the  farther  bank  was  a  dark  fringe  of  trees ;  away  to 
the  left  the  three  arches  of  a  gray  stone  bridge.  In  the 
evening  light  it  made  a  fair  picture,  but  the  beauty  of  it 
seemed  only  to  harden  him,  for  it  reminded  him  of  past 
happiness  ;  he  turned  with  sore-hearted  relief  to  the  nearer 
view  of  the  Serpentine  gleaming  coldly  as  its  waters 
washed  the  shore,  and  to  the  dull  monotony  of  the  path 
in  front  of  him  with  its  heaps  of  brown  leaves.  A  bird  sat 
singing  in  the  beech-tree  above  him,  its  song  jarred  on 
him  just  as  much  as  the  beauty  of  the  sunset,  it  seemed  to 
urge  him  to  leave  the  place  where  he  was  not  needed,  to 
take  himself  out  of  a  world  which  was  meant  for  beauty 
and  brightness  and  success,  a  world  which  had  no  sym- 
pathy for  failure  or  misery.  He  longed  for  the  song  to 
cease,  and  he  longed  for  the  sunset  glory  to  fade,  he  was 
impatient  for  the  end  ;  the  mere  waiting  for  that  brief 
interval  became  to  him  almost  intolerable  ;  only  the  dread 
of  being  rescued  held  him  back. 

Presently  footsteps  on  the  path  made  him  look  up  ;  a 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  53 

shabbily-dressed  girl  walked  slowly  by,  she  was  absorbed 
in  a  newspaper  story  and  did  not  notice  him  ;  neither  did 
she  notice  her  charge,  a  pale-faced,  dark-eyed  little  girl  of 
about  six  years  old  who  followed  her  at  some  distance, 
chanting  a  pretty,  monotonous  little  tune  as  she  dragged 
a  toy-cart  along  the  gravel.  Frithiof,  with  the  preter- 
natural powers  of  observation  which  seemed  his  that  day, 
noticed  in  an  instant  every  tiniest  detail  of  the  child's  face 
and  dress  and  bearing,  the  curious  anatomy  of  the  wooden 
horse,  the  heap  of  golden  leaves  in  the  little  cart.  As  the 
child  drew  nearer,  the  words  of  the  song  became  perfectly 
audible  to  him.  She  sang  very  slowly,  and  in  a  sort  of 
unconscious  way,  as  if  she  couldn't  help  it. 

"  Comfort  every  sufferer, 
Watching  late  in  pain — " 

She  paused  to  put  another  handful  of  leaves  into  the  cart, 
arranged  them  with  great  care,  patted  the  wooden  steed, 
and  resumed  her  song  as  if  there  had  been  no  interruption — 

"  Those  who  plan  some  evil, 
From  their  sin  restrain." 

Frithiof  felt  as  if  a  knife  had  been  suddenly  plunged 
into  him  ;  he  tried  to  hear  more,  but  the  words  died  away, 
he  could  only  follow  the  monotonous  little  tune  in  the 
clear  voice,  and  the  rattling  of  the  toy-cart  on  the  path- 
way. And  so  the  child  passed  on  out  of  sight,  and  he 
saw  her  no  more. 

He  was  alone  again,  and  the  twilight  for  which  he  had 
ponged  was  fast  closing  in  upon  him  ;  a  sort  of  blue  haze 
seemed  gathering  over  the  park  ;  night  was  coming  on. 
What  was  this  horrible  new  struggle  which  was  beginning 
within  him?  "Evil,"  "sin,"'  could  he  not  at  least  do 
what  he  would  with  his  own  life  ?  Where  was  the  harm 
in  ending  that  which  was  hopelessly  spoiled  and  ruined  ? 
Was  not  suicide  a  perfectly  legitimate  ending  to  a  life  ? 

A  voice  within  him  answered  his  question  plainly. 

"To  the  man  with  the  diseased  brain — the  man  who 
doesn't  know  what  he  is  about — it  is  no  worse  an  end 
than  to  die  in  bed  of  a  fever.  But  to  you — you  who  are 
afraid  of  the  suffering  of  life,  you  who  know  quite  well 
what  you  are  doing — to  you  it  is  sin." 

Fight  against  it  as  ne  would  he  could  not  stifle  this  new 
consciousness  which  had  arisen  within  him.  What  had 


54  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

led  him,  he  angrily  wondered,  to  choose  that  particular 
place  to  wait  in  ?  What  had  made  that  child  walk  past  ? 
What  had  induced  her  to  sing  those  particular  words  ? 
Did  that  vague  First  Cause,  in  whom  after  a  fashion  he 
believed,  take  any  heed  of  trifles  such  as  those  ?  He 
would  never  believe  that.  Only  women  or  children 
could  hold  such  a  creed ;  only  those  who  led  sheltered, 
innocent,  ignorant  lives.  But  a  man — a  man  who  had 
just  learned  what  the  world  really  was,  who  saw  that  the 
weakest  went  to  the  wall,  and  might  triumphed  over  right 
— a  man  who  had  once  believed  in  the  beauty  of  life  and 
had  been  bitterly  disillusioned — could  never  believe  in  a 
God  who  ordered  all  things  for  good.  It  was  a  chance, 
a  mere  unlucky  chance,  yet  the  child's  words  had  made  it 
impossible  for  him  to  die  in  peace. 

As  a  matter  of  fact  the  sunset  sky  and  fading  light  had 
suggested  to  the  little  one's  untroubled  mind  the  familiar 
evening  hymn  with  its  graphic  description  of  scenery,  its 
beautiful  word-painting,  its  wide  human  sympathies  ;  and 
that  great  mystery  of  life  which  links  us  together  whether 
we  know  it  or  not,  gave  to  the  child  the  power  to  counter- 
act the  influence  of  Blanche  Morgan's  faithlessness,  and 
to  appeal  to  one  to  whom  the  sight  of  that  same  sunset 
had  suggested  only  thoughts  of  despair. 

A  wild  confusion  of  memories  seemed  to  rush  through 
his  mind,  and  blended  with  them  always  were  the  un- 
welcome words  and  the  quiet  little  chant.  He  was  back 
at  home  again  talking  with  the  old  pastor  who  had  pre- 
pared him  for  confirmation  ;  he  was  a  mere  boy  once 
more,  unhesitatingly  accepting  all  that  he  was  taught  ; 
he  was  standing  up  in  the  great  crowded  Bergen  church 
and  declaring  his  belief  in  Christ,  and  his  entire  willing- 
ness to  give  up  everything  wrong  ;  he  was  climbing  a 
mountain  with  Blanche  and  arguing  with  her  that  life — 
mere  existence — was  beautiful  and  desirable. 

Looking  back  afterward  on  the  frightful  struggle,  it 
seemed  to  him  that  for  ages  he  had  tossed  to  and  fro  in 
that  horrible  hesitation.  In  reality  all  must  have  been 
over  within  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  There  rose  before  him 
the  recollection  of  his  father  as  he  had  last  seen  him  stand- 
ing on  the  deck  of  the  steamer,  and  he  remembered  the 
tone  of  his  voice  as  he  had  said, 

"1  look  to  you,  Frithiof,  to  carry  out  the  aims  in  which 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN:  55 

I  myself  have  failed,  to  live  the  life  that  I  wish  I  could 
have  lived." 

He  saw  once  again  the  wistful  look  in  his  father's  eyes, 
the  mingled  love,  pride  and  anxiety  with  which  he  had 
turned  to  him,  loath  to  let  him  go,  and  yet  eager  to  speed 
him  on  his  way.  Should  he  now  disappoint  all  his  hopes  ? 
Should  he,  deliberately  and  in  the  full  possession  of  all 
his  faculties,  take  a  step  which  must  bring  terrible  suffer- 
ing to  his  home  people  ?  And  then  he  remembered  for 
the  first  time  that  already  trouble  and  vexation  and  loss 
had  overtaken  his  father  ;  he  knew  well  how  greatly  he 
would  regret  the  connection  with  the  English  firm,  and  he 
pictured  to  himself  the  familiar  house  in  Kalvedalen  with 
a  new  and  unfamiliar  cloud  upon  it,  till  instead  of  the 
longing  for  death  there  came  to  him  a  nobler  longing — a 
longing  to  go  back  and  help,  a  longing  to  make  up  to  his 
father  for  the  loss  and  vexation  and  the  slight  which  had 
been  put  upon  him.  He  began  to  feel  ashamed  of  the 
other  wish,  he  began  to  realize  that  there  was  still  some- 
thing to  be  lived  for,  though  indeed  life  looked  to  him  as 
dim  and  uninviting  as  the  twilight  park  with  its  wreaths 
of  gray  mist,  and  its  unpeopled  solitude. 

Yet  still  he  would  live  ;  the  other  thought  no  longer  al- 
lured him,  his  strength  and  manliness  were  returning ; 
with  bitter  resolution  he  tore  himself  from  the  vision  of 
Blanche  which  rose  mockingly  before  him, 'and  getting 
up,  made  his  way  out  of  the  park. 

Emerging  once  more  into  the  busy  world  of  traffic  at 
Hyde  Park  corner,  the  perception  of  his  forlorn  desolate- 
ness  came  to  him  with  far  more  force  than  in  the  quiet 
path  by  the  Serpentine.  For  the  first  time  he  felt  keenly 
that  he  was  in  an  unknown  city,  and  there  came  over  him 
a  sick  longing  for  Norway,  for  dear  old  Bergen,  for  the 
familiar  mountains,  the  familiar  faces,  the  friendly  greet- 
ings of  passers-by.  For  a  few  minutes  he  stood  still,  un- 
certain which  road  to  take,  wondering  how  in  the  world 
he  should  get  through  the  weary  hours  of  his  solitary  even- 
ing. Close  by  him  a  young  man  stood  talking  to  the  oc- 
cupants of  a  brougham  which  had  drawn  up  by  the  pave- 
ment ;  he  heard  a  word  or  two  of  their  talk,  dimly,  almost 
unconsciously. 

"Is  the  result  of  the  trial  known  yet?" 

"Yes,  five  years'  penal  servitude,  and  no  more  than  he 
deserves." 


56  A  HARD  Y  NORSEMAN. 

"The  poor  children  !  what  will  become  of  them  ? '' 

"Shall  you  be  home  by  ten  ?  we  won't  hinder  you, 
then." 

"Quite  by  ten.  Tell  father  that  Sardoni  is  free  for  the 
night  he  wanted  him  ;  I  met  him  just  now.  Good-bye." 
Then  to  the  coachman  "  Home !  " 

The  word  startled  Frithiof  back  to  the  recollection  of 
his  own  affairs  ;  he  had  utterly  lost  his  bearings  and  must 
ask  for  direction.  He  would  accost  this  man  who  seemed 
a  little  less  in  a  hurry  than  the  rest  of  the  world. 

"  Will  you  kindly  tell  me  the  way  to  the  Arundel  Hotel  ? " 
he  asked. 

The  young  man  turned  at  the  sound  of  his  voice,  looked 
keenly  at  him  for  an  instant,  then  held  out  his  hand  in 
cordial  welcome. 

"How  are  you?"  he  exclaimed.  "What  a  lucky 
chance  that  we  should  have  run  across  each  other  in  the 
dark  like  this  !  Have  you  been  long  in  England  ?  " 

Frithiof,  at  the  first  word  of  hearty  greeting,  looked  up 
with  startled  eyes,  and  in  the  dim  gaslight  he  saw  the 
honest  English  face  and  kindly  eyes  of  Roy  Boniface. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

MEANTIME  the  brougham  had  bowled  swiftly  away  and 
its  two  occupants  had  settled  themselves  down  comfort- 
ably as  though  they  were  preparing  for  a  long  drive. 

"Are  you  warm  enough,  my  child?  Better  let  me 
have  this  window  down,  and  you  put  yours  up,"  said 
Mrs.  Boniface,  glancing  with  motherly  anxiety  at  the  fair 
face  beside  her. 

"You  spoil  me,  mother  dear,"  said  Cecil.  "And  in- 
deed I  do  want  you  not  to  worry  about  me.  I  am  quite 
strong,  if  you  would  only  believe  it." 

"Well,  well,  I  hope  you  are,"  said  Mrs.  Boniface  with 
a  sigh.  "But  any  way  it's  more  than  you  look,  child." 

And  the  mother  thought  wistfully  of  two  graves  in  a 
distant  cemetery  where  Cecil's  sisters  lay  ;  and  she  re- 
membered with  a  cruel  pang  that  only  a  few  days  ago 
some  friend  had  remarked  to  her,  with  the  thoughtless 


A  tfARDY  NORSEMAN,  57 

frankness  of  a  rapid  talker,  "Cecil  is  looking  so  pretty 
just  now,  but  she's  got  the  consumptive  look  in  her  face, 
don't  you  think  ?  "  And  these  words  lay  rankling  in  the 
poor  mother's  heart,  even  though  she  had  been  assured 
by  the  doctors  that  there  was  no  disease,  no  great  delicacy 
even,  no  cause  whatever  for  anxiety. 

"I  am  glad  we  have  seen  Dr.  Royston,"  said  Cecil,  "be- 
cause now  we  shall  feel  quite  comfortable,  and  you  won't 
be  anxious  any  more,  mother.  It  would  be  dreadful,  I 
think,  to  have  to  be  a  sort  of  semi-invalid  all  one's  life, 
though  I  suppose  some  people  must  enjoy  it,  since  Dr. 
Royston  said  that  half  the  girls  in  London  were  invalided 
just  for  want  of  sensible  work.  I  rather  believe,  mother, 
that  is  what  has  been  the  matter  with  me,"  and  she 
laughed. 

"You,  my  dear!"  said  Mrs.  Boniface;  "I  am  sure 
you  are  not  at  all  idle  at  home.  No  one  could  say  such 
a  thing  of  you." 

"But  I  am  always  having  to  invent  things  to  do  to 
keep  myself  busy,"  said  Cecil.  "Mother  I  have  got  a 
plan  in  my  head  now  that  would  settle  my  work  for  five 
whole  years,  and  I  do  so  want  you  to  say  'yes'  to  it." 

"  It  isn't  that  you  want  to  go  into  some  sisterhood?" 
asked  Mrs.  Boniface,  her  gentle  gray  eyes  filling  with 
tears. 

"Oh,  no,  no,"  said  Cecil  emphatically.  "Why,  how 
could  I  ever  go  away  from  home  and  leave  you,  darling, 
just  as  I  am  getting  old  enough  to  be  of  use  to  you  ?  It's 
nothing  of  that  kind,  and  the  worst  of  it  is  that  it  would 
mean  a  good  deal  of  expense  to  father,  which  seems 
hardly  fair." 

"He  won't  grudge  that,"  said  Mrs.  Boniface.  "Your 
father  would  do  anything  to  please  you,  dear.  What  is 
this  plan  ?  Let  me  hear  about  it." 

"Well,  the  other  night  when  I  was  hearing  all  about 
those  poor  Grantleys  opposite  to  us — how  the  mother  had 
left  her  husband  and  children  and  gone  off,  no  one  knows 
where,  and  then  how  the  father  had  forged  that  check 
and  would  certainly  be  imprisoned,  I  began  to  wonder 
what  sort  of  a  chance  the  children  had  in  the  world.  And 
no  one  seemed  to  know  or  to  care  what  would  become  of 
them,  except  father,  and  he  said  we  must  try  to  get  them 
into  some  asylum  or  school." 

"  It  isn't  many  asylums  that  would  care  to  take  them, 


58  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN: 

I  expect,"  said  Mrs.  Boniface.  "Poor  little  things,  there's 
a  hard  fight  before  them  !  But  what  was  your  plan  ?  " 

"Why,  mother,  it  was  just  to  persuade  father  to  let 
them  come  to  us  for  the  five  years.  Of  course  it  would 
be  an  expense  to  him,  but  I  would  teach  them,  and  help 
to  take  care  of  them  ;  and  oh,  it  would  be  so  nice  to 
have  children  about  the  house  !  One  can  never  be  dull 
where  there  are  children/' 

"I  knew  she  was  dull  at  home,"  thought  the  mother  to 
herself.  "  It  was  too  much  of  a  change  for  her  to  come 
back  from  school,  from  so  many  educated  people  and 
young  friends,  to  an  ignorant  old  woman  like  me  and  a 
silent  house.  Not  that  the  child  would  ever  allow  it. " 

"But  of  course,  darling,"  said  Cecil,  "I  won't  say  a 
word  more  about  it  if  you  think  it  would  trouble  you  or 
make  the  house  too  noisy." 

"There  is  plenty  of  room  for  them,  poor  little  mites," 
said  Mrs.  Boniface.  "And  the  plan  is  just  like  you,  dear. 
There's  only  one  objection  I  have  to  it.  I  don't  like  your 
binding  yourself  to  work  for  so  many  years — not  just  now 
while  you  are  so  young.  I  should  have  liked  you  to 
marry,  dear." 

"But  I  don't  think  that  is  likely,"  said  Cecil.  "And  it 
does  seem  so  stupid  to  let  the  time  pass  on  and  do  noth- 
ing for  years  and  years  just  because  there  is  a  chance  that 
some  man  whom  you  could  accept  may  propose  to  you. 
The  chances  are  quite  equal  that  it  may  not  be  so,  and 
then  you  have  wasted  a  great  part  of  your  life." 

"I  wish  you  could  have  fancied  Herbert  White,"  said 
Mrs.  Boniface,  wistfully.  "  He  would  have  made  such  a 
good  husband." 

"  I  hope  he  will  to  some  one  else.  But  that  would 
have  been  impossible,  mother,  quite,  quite  impossible." 

"Cecil,  dearie,  is  there — is  there  any  one  else  ?  " 

"No  one,  mother,"  said  Cecil,  quietly,  and  the  color  in 
her  cheeks  did  not  deepen,  and  Mrs.  Boniface  felt  satisfied. 
Yet,  nevertheless,  at  that  very  moment  there  flashed  into 
Cecil's  mind  the  perception  of  the  real  reason  which  had 
made  it  impossible  for  her  to  accept  the  offer  of  marriage 
that  a  week  or  two  ago  she  had  refused.  She  saw  that 
Frithiof  Falck  would  always  be  to  her  a  sort  of  standard 
by  which  to  measure  the  rest  of  mankind,  and  she  faced 
the  thought  quietly,  for  there  never  had  been  any  ques- 
tion of  love  between  them  ;  he  would  probably  marry  the 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN*.  59 

pretty  Miss  Morgan,  and  it  was  very  unlikely  that  she 
should  ever  meet  him  again. 

"The  man  whom  I  could  accept  must  be  that  sort  of 
man,"  she  thought  to  herself.  "And  there  is  something 
degrading  in  the  idea  of  standing  and  waiting  for  the  doubt- 
ful chance  that  such  a  one  may  some  day  appear.  Surely 
we  girls  were  not  born  into  the  world  just  to  stand  in  rows 
waiting  to  get  married  ?  " 

"And  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  what  I  should  do  without 
you  if  you  did  get  married,"  said  Mrs.  Boniface,  driving 
back  the  tears  which  had  started  to  her  eyes,  "  so  I  don't 
know  why  I  am  so  anxious  that  it  should  come  about, 
except  that  I  should  so  like  to  see  you  happy." 

"And  so  I  am  happy,  perfectly  happy,"  said  Cecil,  and 
as  she  spoke  she  suddenly  bent  forward  and  kissed  her 
mother.  "A  girl  would  have  to  be  very  wicked  not  to  be 
happy  with  you  and  father  and  Roy  to  live  with." 

"I  wish  you  were  not  cut  off  from  so  much,"  said  Mrs. 
Boniface.  "You  see,  dear,  if  you  were  alone  in  the  world 
people  would  take  you  up — I  mean  the  style  of  people  you 
would  care  to  be  friends  with — but  as  long  as  there's  the 
shop,  and  as  long  as  you  have  a  mother  who  can't  talk 
well  about  recent  books,  and  who  is  not  always  sure  how 
to  pronounce  things — " 

"Mother!  mother!"  cried  Cecil,  "how  can  you  say 
such  things  !  As  long  as  I  have  you  what  do  I  want  with 
any  one  else  ?  " 

Mrs.  Boniface  patted  the  girl's  hand  tenderly. 

"  I  like  to  talk  of  the  books  with  you,  dearie,"  she  said  ; 
"  you  understand  that.  There's  nothing  pleases  me  better 
than  to  hear  you  read  of  an  evening,  and  I'm  very  much 
interested  in  that  poor  Mrs.  Carlyle,  though  it  does  seem 
to  me  it's  a  comfort  to  be  in  private  life,  where  no  biog- 
raphers can  come  raking  up  all  your  foolish  words  and 
bits  of  quarrels  after  you  are  dead  and  buried.  Why,  here 
we  are  at  home.  How  quick  we  have  got  down  this 
evening  !  As  to  your  plan,  dearie,  I'll  just  talk  it  over  with 
father  the  very  first  chance  I  have." 

"Thank  you,  mother.  I  do  so  hope  he  will  let  us  have 
them."  And  Cecil  sprang  out  of  the  carriage  with  more 
animation  in  her  face  than  Mrs.  Boniface  had  seen  there 
for  a  longtime. 

Mrs.  Boniface  was  a  Devonshire  woman,  and,  notwith- 
standing her  five-and-twenty  years  of  London  life,  she  still 


60  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

preserved  something  of  her  western  accent  and  intonation  ; 
she  had  also  the  gentle  manner  and  the  quiet  consideration 
and  courtesy  which  seem  innate  in  most  west-country 
people.  As  to  education,  she  had  received  the  best  that 
was  to  be  had  for  tradesmen's  daughters  in  the  days  of  her 
youth,  but  she  was  well  aware  that  it  did  not  come  up  to 
modern  requirements,  and  had  taken  good  care  that  Cecil 
should  be  brought  up  very  differently.  There  was  some- 
thing very  attractive  in  her  homely  simplicity  ;  and  though 
she  could  not  help  regretting  that  Cecil,  owing  to  her 
position,  was  cut  off  from  much  that  other  girls  enjoyed, 
nothing  would  have  induced  her  to  try  to  push  her  way  in 
the  world,  she  was  too  true  a  lady  for  that,  and,  more- 
over, beneath  all  her  gentleness  had  too  much  dignity  and 
independence  of  character.  So  it  had  come  to  pass  that 
they  lived  a  very  quiet  life,  with  few  intimate  friends  and 
not  too  many  acquaintances  ;  but  perhaps  they  were  none 
the  less  happy  for  that.  Certainly  there  was  about  the 
home  a  sense  of  peace  and  rest  not  too  often  to  be  met 
with  in  this  bustling  nineteenth  century. 

The  opportunity  for  suggesting  Cecil's  plan  to  Mr.  Boni- 
face came  soon  after  they  reached  home.  In  that  house 
things  were  wont  to  be  quickly  settled ;  they  wrere  not 
great  at  discussions,  and  perhaps  this  accounted  in  a  great 
measure  for  the  peace  of  the  domestic  atmosphere.  Cer- 
tainly there  is  nothing  so  productive  of  family  quarrels  as 
the  habit  of  perpetually  talking  over  the  various  arrange- 
ments, household  or  personal,  and  many  a  good  digestion 
must  have  been  ruined,  and  many  a  temper  soured,  by 
the  baneful  habit  of  arguing  the  pros  and  cons  of  some 
vexed  question  during  breakfast  or  dinner. 

Cecil  was  in  the  drawing-room,  playing  one  of  Chopin's 
Ballades,  when  her  father  came  into  the  room.  He  stood 
by  the  fire  till  she  had  finished,  watching  her  thoughtfully. 
He  was  an  elderly  man,  tall  and  spare,  with  a  small, 
shapely  head,  white  hair,  and  trim,  white  beard.  His 
gray  eyes  were  honest  and  kindly,  like  his  son's,  and  the 
face  was  a  good  as  well  as  a  refined  face.  He  was  one 
of  the  deacons  of  a  Congregational  chapel,  and  came  of 
an  old  Nonconformist  family,  which  for  many  generations 
had  pleaded  and  suffered  for  religious  liberty.  Robert 
Boniface  was  true  to  his  principles,  and  when  his  children 
grew  up,  and,  becoming  old  enough  to  go  thoroughly  into 
the  question,  declared  their  wish  to  join  the  Church  of 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  61 

England,  he  made  not  the  slightest  objection.  What  was 
more,  he  would  not  even  allow  them  to  see  that  it  was  a 
grief  to  him. 

"It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  every  one  should  see 
from  one  point  of  view,"  he  had  said  to  his  wife.  "We 
are  all  of  us  looking  to  the  same  sun,  and  that  is  the  great 
thing." 

Such  divisions  must  always  be  a  little  sad,  but  mutual 
love  and  mutual  respect  made  them  in  this  case  a  positive 
gain.  There  were  no  arguments,  but  each  learned  to  set, 
and  admire  what  was  good  in  the  other's  view,  to  hold 
stanchly  to  what  was  deemed  right,  and  to  live  in  that 
love  which  practically  nullifies  all  petty  divisions  and 
differences. 

"And  so  I  hear  that  you  want  to  be  mothering  those 
little  children  over  the  way,"  said  Mr.  Boniface,  when  the 
piece  was  ended. 

Cecil  crossed  the  room  and  stood  beside  him. 

"What  do  you  think  about  it,  father?"  she  asked. 

"I  think  that  before  you  decide  you  must  realize  that 
it  will  be  a  great  responsibility." 

"I  have  thought  of  that,"  she  said.  "And  of  course 
there  is  the  expense  to  be  thought  of." 

"  Never  mind  about  the  expense  ;  I  will  undertake  that 
part  of  the  matter  if  you  will  undertake  the  responsibility. 
Do  you  quite  realize  that  even  pretty  little  children  are 
sometimes  cross  and  naughty  and  ill  ? " 

She  laughed. 

"Yes,  yes;  I  have  seen  those  children  in  all  aspects, 
and  they  are  rather  spoiled.  But  I  can't  bear  to  think  that 
they  will  be  sent  to  some  great  institution,  with  no  one 
to  care  for  them  properly." 

"  Then  you  are  willing  to  undertake  your  share  of  the 
bargain  ? " 

"Quite." 

"Very  well,  then,  that  is  settled.  Let  us  come  across 
and  see  if  any  one  has  stepped  in  before  us." 

Cecil,  in  great  excitement,  flew  upstairs  to  tell  her 
mother,  and  reappeared  in  a  minute  or  two  in  h«r  hat  and 
jacket.  Then  the  father  and  daughter  crossed  the  quiet 
suburban  road  to  the  opposite  house,  where  such  a  dif- 
ferent life-story  had  been  lived.  The  door  was  opened  to 
them  by  the  nurse  ;  she  had  evidently  been  crying,  and 


62  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

even  as  they  entered  the  passage  they  seemed  conscious 
of  the  desolation  of  the  whole  atmosphere. 

"  Oh,  miss,  have  you  heard  the  verdict  ?  "  said  the  serv- 
ant, who  knew  Cecil  slightly,  and  was  eager  for  sym- 
pathy. "And  what's  to  become  of  my  little  ones  no  one 
seems  to  know." 

"That  is  just  what  we  came  to  inquire  about,"  said  Mr. 
Boniface.  "We  heard  there  were  no  relations  to  take 
charge  of  them.  Is  that  true  ?  " 

"There  is  not  a  creature  in  the  world  to  care  for  them, 
sir, "  said  the  nurse.  ' '  There's  the  lawyer  looking  through 
master's  papers  now,  sir,  and  he  says  we  must  be  out  of 
this  by  next  week,  and  that  he  must  look  up  some  sort  of 
school  where  they'll  take  them  cheap.  A  school  for  them 
little  bits  of  things,  sir,  isn't  it  enough  to  break  one's  heart? 
And  little  Miss  Gwen  so  delicate,  and  only  a  lawyer  to 
choose  it,  one  as  knows  nothing  but  about  parchments 
and  red  tape,  sir,  and  hasn't  so  much  as  handled  a  child 
in  his  life,  I'll  be  bound." 

"  If  Mr.  Grantley's  solicitor  is  here  I  should  like  to 
speak  to  him  for  a  minute,"  said  Mr.  Boniface.  "I'll  be 
with  you  again  before  long,  Cecil ;  perhaps  you  could  see 
the  children." 

He  was  shown  into  the  study  which  had  belonged  to 
the  master  of  the  house,  and  unfolded  Cecil's  suggestion 
to  the  lawyer,  who  proved  to  be  a  much  more  fatherly 
sort  of  man  than  the  nurse  had  represented.  He  was 
quite  certain  that  his  client  would  be  only  too  grateful  for 
so  friendly  an  act. 

"  Things  have  gone  hardly  with  poor  Grantley,"  he  re- 
marked. "And  such  an  offer  will  be  the  greatest  possible 
surprise  to  him.  The  poor  fellow  has  not  had  a  fair  chance  ; 
handicapped  with  such  a  wife,  one  can  almost  forgive  him 
for  going  to  the  bad.  I  shall  be  seeing  him  once  more  to- 
morrow, and  will  let  you  know  what  he  says.  But  of 
course  there  can  be  but  one  answer — he  will  thankfully 
accept  your  help." 

Meanwhile  Cecil  had  been  taken  upstairs  to  the  nursery  ; 
it  looked  a  trifle  less  desolate  than  the  rest  of  the  house, 
yet  lying  on  the  table  among  the  children's  toys  she  saw 
an  evening  paper  with  the  account  of  the  verdict  and  sen- 
tence on  John  Grantley. 

The  nurse  had  gone  into  the  adjoining  room,  but 
quickly  returned., 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  63 

'•They  are  asleep,  miss,  but  you'll  come  in  and  see 
them,  won't  you  ?  " 

Cecil  had  wished  for  this,  and  followed  her  guide  into 
the  dimly  lighted  night-nursery,  where  in  two  little  cribs 
lay  her  future  charges.  They  were  beautiful  children, 
and  as  she  watched  them  in  their  untroubled  sleep,  and 
thought  of  the  mother  who  had  deserted  them  and  dis- 
graced her  name,  and  the  father  who  was  at  that  moment 
beginning  his  five  years  of  penal  servitude,  her  heart  ached 
for  the  little  ones,  and  more  and  more  she  longed  to  help 
them. 

Lancelot,  the  elder  of  the  two,  was  just  four  years 
old ;  he  had  a  sweet,  rosy,  determined  little  face  with 
a  slightly  Jewish  look  about  it,  his  curly  brown  hair 
was  long  enough  to  fall  back  over  the  pillow,  and  in  his 
fat  little  hand  he  grasped  a  toy  horse,  which  was  his  in- 
separable companion  night  and  day.  The  little  girl  was 
much  smaller  and  more  fragile-looking,  though  in  some 
respects  the  two  were  alike.  Her  baby  face  looked  ex- 
quisite now  in  its  perfect  peace,  and  Cecil  did  not  wonder 
that  the  nurse's  tears  broke  forth  again  as  she  spoke  of 
the  little  two-year-old  Gwen  being  sent  to  school.  They 
were  still  talking  about  the  matter  when  Mr.  Boniface 
rejoined  them,  the  lawyer  also  came  in,  and,  to  the 
nurse's  surprise,  even  looked  at  the  sleeping  children, 
"Quite  human-like,"  as  she  remarked  afterward  to  the 
cook. 

"Don't  you  distress  yourself  about  the  children,''  he 
said,  kindly.  "  It  will  be  all  right  for  them.  Probably 
they  will  only  have  to  move  across  the  road.  We  shall 
know  definitely  about  it  to-morrow  ;  but  this  gentleman 
has  very  generously  offered  to  take  care  of  them." 

The  nurse's  tearful  gratitude  was  interrupted  by  a  sound 
from  one  of  the  cribs.  Lance,  disturbed  perhaps  by  the 
voices,  was  talking  in  his  sleep. 

"Gee-up  !  "  he  shouted,  in  exact  imitation  of  a  carter, 
as  he  waved  the  toy  horse  in  the  air. 

Every  one  laughed,  and  took  the  hint ;  the  lawyer  went 
back  to  his  work,  and  Mr.  Boniface  and  Cecil,  after  a  few 
parting  words  with  the  happy  servant,  recrossed  the  road 
to  Rowan  Tree  House. 

"  Oh,  father,  it  is  so  very  good  of  you,"  said  Cecil,  slip- 
ping her  arm  into  his  ;  "I  haven't  been  so  happy  for  an 
age  !  " 


64  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

"  And  I  am  happy,"  he  replied,  "  that  it  is  such  a  thing 
as  this  which  pleases  my  daughter." 

After  that  there  followed  a  delightful  evening  of  antici- 
pation, and  Mrs.  Boniface  entered  into  the  plan  with  her 
whole  heart  and  talked  of  nursery  furniture  put  away  in  the 
loft,  and  arranged  the  new  nursery  in  imagination  fifty 
.times  over — always  with  improvements.  And  this  made 
them  talk  of  the  past,  and  she  began  to  tell  amusing 
stories  of  Roy  and  Cecil  when  they  were  children,  and 
even  went  back  to  remembrances  of  her  own  nursery  life, 
in  which  a  stern  nurse  who  administered  medicine  with  a 
forcing  spoon  figured  largely. 

"  I  believe,"  said  the  gentle  old  lady,  laughing,  "that 
it  was  due  to  that  old  nurse  of  mine  that  I  never  could 
bear  theological  arguments.  She  began  them  when  we 
were  so  young  that  we  took  a  fatal  dislike  to  them.  I 
can  well  remember,  as  a  little  thing  of  four  years  old,  sit- 
ting on  the  punishment  chair  in  the  nursery  when  all  the 
others  were  out  at  play,  and  wishing  that  Adam  and  Eve 
hadn't  sinned." 

"You  all  sound  very  merry,"  said  Roy,  opening  the 
door  before  the  laugh  which  greeted  this  story  had  died 
away. 

"  Why,  how  nice  and  early  you  are,  Roy  !  "  exclaimed 
Cecil.  "Oh!  mother  has  been  telling  us  no  end  of 
stories,  you  ought  to  have  been  here  to  listen  to  them. 
And  Roy,  we  are  most  likely  going  to  have  those  little 
children  over  the  way  to  live  with  us  till  their  father  is 
out  of  prison  again." 

Roy  seemed  grave  and  preoccupied,  but  Cecil  was  too 
happy  to  notice  that,  and  chattered  on  contentedly.  He 
scarcely  heard  her,  yet  a  sense  of  strong  contrast  made 
the  homelikeness  of  the  scene  specially  emphasized  to  him. 
He  looked  at  his  father  leaning  back  in  the  great  arm- 
chair, with  reading-lamp  and  papers  close  by  him,  but 
with  his  eyes  fixed  on  Cecil  as  she  sat  on  the  rug  at  his 
feet,  the  firelight  brightening  her  fair  hair ;  he  looked  at 
his  mother  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  hearth,  in  the 
familiar  dress  which  she  almost  always  wore — black  silk 
with  soft  white  lace  about  the  neck  and  bodice,  and  a 
pretty  white  lace  cap.  She  was  busy  with  her  netting, 
but  every  now  and  then  glanced  up  at  him. 

"You  are  tired  to-night,  Roy,"  she  said,  when  Cecil's 
Story  had  come  to  an  end, 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  65 

"Just  a  little,"  he  owned.  "Such  a  curious  thing 
happened  to  me.  It  was  a  good  thing  you  caught  sight 
of  me  at  Hyde  Park  Corner  and  stopped  to  ask  about  the 
trial,  Cecil,  for  otherwise  it  would  never  have  come  about. 
Who  do  you  think  I  met  just  as  you  drove  on  ?  " 

"  I  can't  guess,"  said  Cecil,  rising  from  her  place  on  the 
hearthrug  as  the  gong  sounded  for  supper. 

"One  of  our  Norwegian  friends,"  said  Roy,  "Frithiof 
Falck. " 

"  What !  is  he  actually  in  England,"  said  Cecil,  taking 
up  the  reading-lamp  to  carry  it  into  the  next  room. 

"  Yes,  poor  fellow,"  said  Roy. 

Something  in  his  tone  made  Cecil's  heart  beat  quickly  ; 
she  could  not  have  accounted  for  the  strength  of  the  feel- 
ing which  suddenly  overwhelmed  her;  she  hardly  knew 
what  it  was  she  feared  so  much,  or  why  such  a  sudden 
panic  had  seized  upon  her  ;  she  trembled  from  head  to 
foot,  and  was  glad  as  they  crossed  the  hall  to  hand  the 
lamp  to  Roy,  glancing  up  at  him  as  she  did  so  appre- 
hensively. 

"Why  do  you  say  poor  fellow?"  she  asked.  "Oh, 
Roy  !  what  is  the  matter  ? — what — what  has  happened  to 
him?" 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

"THE  house  seems  quiet  without  Frithiof,"  remarked 
Herr  Falck  on  the  Monday  after  his  son's  departure. 

Frithiof  at  that  very  moment  was  walking  through  the 
streets  of  Hull,  feeling  lonely  and  desolate  enough.  They 
felt  desolate  without  him  at  Bergen,  and  began  to  talk 
much  of  his  return,  and  to  wonder  when  the  wedding 
would  be,  and  to  settle  what  presents  they  would  give 
Blanche. 

The  dining-room  looked  very  pleasant  on  that  October 
morning.  Sigrid,  though  never  quite  happy  when  her 
twin  was  away,  was  looking  forward  eagerly  to  his  return, 
and  was  so  much  cheered  by  the  improvement  in  her 
father's  health  and  spirits  that  she  felt  more  at  rest  than 
she  had  done  for  some  time.  Little  Swanhild,  whose 
passion  for  Blanche  increased  daily,  was  in  the  seventh 


66  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

heaven  of  happiness,  and  though  she  had  not  been  told 
everything,  knew  quite  well  that  the  general  expectation 
was  that  Frithiof  would  be  betrothed  to  her  ideal.  As  for 
Herr  Falck  he  looked  eager  and  hopeful,  and  it  seemed  as 
if  some  cloud  of  care  had  been  lifted  off  him.  He  talked 
more  than  he  had  done  of  late,  teased  Swanhild  merrily 
about  her  lessons,  and  kept  both  girls  laughing  and  chat- 
tering at  the  table  till  Swanhilld  had  to  run  off  in  a  hurry, 
declaring  that  she  should  be  late  for  school. 

"You  should  not  tell  such  funny  stories  in  the  morning, 
little  father  !  "  she  said  laughingly  as  she  stopped  for  the 
customary  kiss  and  "  tak  for  maden"  (thanks  for  the  meal) 
on  her  way  out  of  the  room. 

"  Ah,  but  to  laugh  is  so  good  for  the  digestion,"  said 
Herr  Falck.  "You  will  read  English  all  the  better  in 
consequence.  See  if  you  don't." 

"Are  you  busy  to-day,  father?"  asked  Sigrid  as  the 
door  closed  behind  the  little  girl. 

"  Not  at  all.  I  shall  take  a  walk  before  going  to  the 
office.  I  tell  you  what,  Sigrid,  you  shall  come  with  me 
and  get  a  new  English  story  at  Beyer's  to  cheer  you  in 
Frithiofs  absence.  What  was  the  novel  some  one  told 
you  gave  the  best  description  of  English  home  life  ?  " 

"'  Wives  and  Daughters,'  "  said  Sigrid. 

"Well,  let  us  get  it,  then,  and  afterward  we  will  just 
take  a  turn  above  Walkendorf  s  Tower,  and  see  if  there  is 
any  sign  of  our  vessels  from  Iceland." 

"You  heard  good  news  of  them  last  month,  did  you 
not  !"  asked  Sigrid. 

"  No  definite  news,  but  everything  was  very  hopeful. 
They  sent  word  by  the  steamer  to  Granton,  and  tele- 
graphedfrom  there  to  our  station  in  Oifjord." 

"What  did  they  say?  " 

"  That  as  yet  there  had  been  no  catch  of  herrings,  but 
that  everything  was  most  promising,  as  plenty  of  whales 
were  seen  every  day  at  the  mouth  of  the  fjord.  Oh,  I  am 
perfectly  satisfied.  I  have  had  no  anxiety  about  the 
expedition  since  then. "  So  father  and  daughter  set  out 
together.  It  was  a  clear  frosty  morning,  the  wintry  air 
was  invigorating,  and  Sigrid  thought  she  had  never  seen 
her  father  look  so  well  before  ;  his  step  seemed  so  light, 
his  brow  so  smooth,  his  eyes  so  unclouded.  Beyer's  shop 
had  fascinations  for  them  both;  she  lingered  long  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  Tauchnitz  shelves,  while  Herr  Falck 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  67 

discussed  the  news  with  some  one  behind  the  counter, 
and  admired  the  pictures  temptingly  displayed. 

"  Look  here,  Sigrid  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Did  you  ever  see 
a  prettier  little  water-color  than  that  ?  Bergen  in  winter, 
from  the  harbor.  What  is  the  price  of  it  ?  A  hundred 
kroner  ?  I  must  really  have  it.  It  shall  be  a  present  to 
you  in  memory  of  our  walk." 

Sigrid  was  delighted  with  the  picture,  and  Herr  Falck 
himself  seemed  as  pleased  with  it  as  a  child  with  a  new  toy. 
They  walked  away  together,  planning  where  it  should 
hang  at  home,  and  saying  how  it  was  just  the  sort  of 
thing  Frithiof  would  like. 

"  It  is  quite  a  pity  we  did  not  see  it  when  he  was  away  in 
Germany,  he  would  have  liked  to  have  it  when  he  was 
suffering  from  heim  zveh,"  said  Sigrid. 

"Well,  all  that  sort  of  thing  is  over  for  him,  I  hope," 
said  Herr  Falck.  "  No  need  that  he  should  be  away  from 
Bergen  any  more,  except  now  and  then  for  a  holiday. 
And  if  ever  you  marry  a  foreigner,  Sigrid,  you  will  be 
able  to  take  Bergen  with  you  as  a  consolation." 

"  They  made  their  way  up  to  a  little  wooded  hill  above 
the  fortress,  which  commanded  a  wide  and  beautiful 
view. 

' '  Ah  !  "  cried  Herr  Falck.  ' '  Look  there,  Sigrid  !  Look, 
look  !  there  is  surely  a  vessel  coming. " 

She  gazed  out  seaward. 

"You  have  better  eyes  than  I  have,  father.  Where- 
abouts ?  Oh  !  yes,  now  I  see,  ever  so  far  away.  Do  you 
think  it  is  one  of  yours  ?  " 

"I  can't  tell  yet,"  said  Herr  Falck;  and  glancing  at 
him  she  saw  that  he  was  in  an  agony  of  impatience,  and 
that  the  old  troubled  look  had  come  back  to  his  face. 

Again  the  nameless  fear  which  had  seized  her  in  the 
summer  took  possession  of  her.  She  would  not  bother 
him  with  questions,  but  waited  silently  beside  him,  won- 
dering why  he  was  so  unusually  excited,  wishing  that  she 
understood  business  matters,  longing  for  Frithiof,  who 
would  perhaps  have  known  all  about  it  and  could  have 
reassured  her. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  cried  Herr  Falck  at  length,  "  I  am  almost 
sure  it  is  one  of  our  Oifjord  vessels.  Yes  !  I  am  certain 
it  is  the  Solid.  Now  the  great  question  is  this — is  she 
loaded  or  only  ballasted  ?  " 

The  fresh  strong  wind  kept  blowing  Sigrid's  fringe  about 


68  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

distractingly  ;  sheltering  her  eyes  with  her  hand  she  looked 
again  eagerly  at  the  approaching  vessel. 

"I  think  she  is  rather  low  in  the  water,  father,  don't 
you  ? " 

"  I  hope  so — I  hope  so,"  said  Herr  Falck,  and  he  took 
off  his  spectacles  and  began  to  wipe  the  dim  glasses  with 
fingers  that  trembled  visibly. 

The  ship  was  drawing  nearer  and  nearer,  and  every 
moment  Sigrid  realized  more  that  it  was  not  as  she  had 
first  hoped.  Undoubtedly  the  vessel  was  high  in  the 
water.  She  glanced  apprehensively  at  her  father. 

"  I  can't  bear  this  any  longer,  Sigrid,"  he  exclaimed. 
"  We  will  go  down  to  Tydskebryggen,  and  take  a  boat 
and  row  out  to  her." 

They  hurried  away,  speaking  never  a  word.  Sigrid 
feared  that  her  father  would  send  her  home,  thinking  it 
would  be  cold  for  her  on  the  water,  but  he  allowed  her  to 
get  into  the  little  boat  in  silence,  perhaps  scarcely  realizing 
her  presence,  too  much  taken  up  with  his  great  anxiety 
to  think  of  anything  else.  As  they  threaded  their  way 
through  the  busy  harbor,  she  began  to  feel  a  little  more 
cheerful.  Perhaps  after  all  the  matter  was  not  so  serious. 
The  sun  shone  brightly  on  the  sparkling  water  ;  the  sailors 
and  laborers  on  the  vessels  and  the  quays  shouted  and 
talked  at  their  work  ;  on  a  steamer,  which  they  passed, 
one  of  the  men  was  cleaning  the  brass-work  and  singing 
blithely  the  familiar  tune  of  "Sonner  af  Norge." 

"We  must  hope  for  the  best,"  said  Herr  Falck,  perhaps 
also  feeling  the  influence  of  the  cheerful  tune. 

Just  as  they  neared  the  Solid  the  anchor  dropped. 

"You  had  better  wait  here,"  said  Herr  Falck,  "while 
I  go  on  board.  I'll  not  keep  you  long,  dear." 

Nevertheless  anxious  waiting  always  does  seem  long, 
and  Sigrid,  spite  of  her  sealskin  jacket,  shivered  as  she  sat 
in  the  little  boat.  It  was  not  so  much  the  cold  that  made 
her  shiver,  as  that  horrible  nameless  dread,  that  anxiety 
which  weighed  so  much  more  heavily  because  she  did  not 
fully  understand  it. 

When  her  father  rejoined  her,  her  worst  fears  were  real- 
ized. He  neither  looked  at  her  nor  spoke  to  her,  but,  just 
giving  a  word  of  direction  to  the  boatman,  sat  down  in 
his  place  with  folded  arms  and  bent  head.  She  knew  in- 
stantly that  some  terrible  disaster  must  have  happenM, 
but  she  did  not  Uare  to  ask  what  it  was,  she  just  sat  still 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  69 

listening  to  the  monotonous  stroke  of  the  oars,  and  with 
an  uneasy  wonder  in  her  mind  as  to  what  would  happen 
next.  They  were  nearing  the  shore,  and  at  last  her  father 
spoke. 

"  Pay  the  man,  Sigrid,"  he  said,  and  with  an  unsteady 
hand  he  gave  her  his  purse.  He  got  out  of  the  boat  first 
and  she  fancied  she  saw  him  stagger,  but  the  next  moment 
he  recovered  himself  and  turned  to  help  her.  They  walked 
away  together  in  the  direction  of  the  office. 

"  You  must  not  be  too  anxious,  dear  child,"  he  said. 
"I  will  explain  all  to  you  this  evening.  I  have  had  a 
heavy  loss." 

"But,  little  father,  you  look  so  ill,"  pleaded  Sigrid. 
"Must  you  indeed  go  to  the  office  ?  Why  not  come  home 
and  rest." 

"  Rest ! "  said  Herr  Falck  dreamily.  "  Rest  ?  No,  not 
just  yet — not  just  yet.  Send  the  carriage  for  me  this  after- 
noon, and  say  nothing  about  it  to  any  one — I'll  explain  it 
to  you  later  on." 

So  the  father  and  daughter  parted,  and  Sigrid  went  home 
to  bear  as  best  she  could  her  day  of  suspense.  Herr 
Falck  returned  later  on,  looking  very  ill  and  complaining 
of  headache.  She  persuaded  him  to  lie  down  in  his  study, 
and  would  not  ask  him  the  question  which  was  trembling 
on  her  lips.  But  in  the  evening  he  spoke  to  her. 

"You  are  a  good  child,  Sigrid,  a  good  child,"  he  said, 
caressing  her  hand.  "And  now  you  must  hear  all, 
though  I  would  give  much  to  keep  it  from  you.  The 
Iceland  expedition  has  failed,  dear  ;  the  vessels  have 
come  back  empty." 

' '  Does  it  mean  such  a  very  great  loss  to  you,  father  ?  " 
she  asked. 

"I  will  explain  to  you,"  he  said  more  eagerly;  "I 
should  like  you  to  understand  how  it  has  come  about. 
For  some  time  trade  has  been  very  bad,  and  last  year 
and  the  year  before  I  had  some  heavy  losses  connected 
with  the  Lofoten  part  of  the  business." 

He  seemed  to  take  almost  a  pleasure  in  giving  her  all 
sorts  of  details  which  she  could  not  half  understand  ;  she 
heard  in  a  confused  way  of  the  three  steamers  sent  to 
Nordland  in  the  summer  with  empty  barrels  and  salt  for 
the  herrings  ;  she  heard  about  buying  at  the  Bourse  of 
Bergen  large  quantities,  so  that  Herr  Falck  had  ten  thou- 


fO  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

sand  barrels  at  a  time,  and  had  been  obliged  to  realize 
them  at  ruinous  prices. 

"You  do  not  understand  all  this,  my  Sigrid,"  he  said, 
smiling  at  her  puzzled  face.  "Well,  I'll  tell  you  the  rest 
more  simply.  Things  were  looking  as  bad  as  possible, 
and  when  in  the  summer  I  heard  that  Haugesund  had 
caught  thousands  of  barrels  of  herrings  in  the  fjords  of 
Iceland,  I  made  up  my  mind  to  try  the  same  plan,  and  to 
stake  all  on  that  last  throw.  I  chartered  sailing  vessels, 
hired  hands,  bought  nets,  and  the  expedition  set  off — I 
knew  that  if  it  came  back  with  full  barrels  I  should  be  a 
rich  man,  and  that  if  it  failed,  there  was  no  help  for  it — 
my  business  must  go  to  pieces." 

Sigrid  gave  a  little  cry.  "  You  will  be  bankrupt  ?  "  she 
exclaimed.  "  Oh,  surely  not  that,  father — not  that  !  " 

She  remembered  all  too  vividly  the  bankruptcy  of  a 
well-known  timber  merchant  some  years  before  ;  she 
knew  that  he  had  raised  money  by  borrowing  on  the 
Bank  of  Norway  and  on  the  Savings  Bank  of  Bergen,  and 
she  knew  that  it  was  the  custom  of  the  land  that  the 
banks,  avoiding  risk  in  that  way,  demanded  two  sureties 
for  the  loan,  and  that  the  failure  of  a  large  firm  caused 
distress  far  and  wide,  to  an  extent  hardly  conceivable  to 
foreigners. 

"There  is  yet  one  hope,"  said  Herr  Falck.  "If  the 
rumor  I  heard  in  the  summer  is  false,  and  if  I  can  still 
keep  the  connection  with  the  Morgans,  that  guarantees 
me  7, 200  kroner  a  year,  and  in  that  case  I  have  no  doubt 
we  could  avoid  open  bankruptcy." 

"  But  how  ?  "  said  Sigrid.      "  I  don't  understand." 

"  The  Morgans  would  never  keep  me  as  their  agent  if 
I  were  declared  a  bankrupt,  and,  to  avoid  that,  I  think 
my  creditors  would  accept  as  payment  the  outcome  of  all 
my  property,  and  would  give  me  what  we  call  voluntary 
agreement  ;  it  is  a  form  of  winding  up  a  failing  concern 
which  is  very  often  employed.  They  would  be  the  gain- 
ers in  the  long  run,  because  of  course  they  would  not 
allow  me  to  keep  my  7,200  kroner  untouched,  so  in  any 
case,  my  child,  I  have  brought  you  to  poverty." 

He  covered  his  face  with  his  hands.  Sigrid  noticed 
that  the  veins  about  his  temples  stood  out  like  blue  cords, 
so  much  were  they  enlarged. 

She  put  her  arm  about  him,  kissing  his  hair,  his  hands, 
his  forehead. 


A  HARD  Y  XORSEMAtf.  7 1 

"I  do  not  mind  poverty,  little  father;  I  mind  only  that 
you  are  so  troubled,"  she  said.  "And  surely,  surely  they 
will  not  take  the  agency  from  you  after  all  these  years  ! 
Oh,  poverty  will  be  nothing,  if  only  we  can  keep  from 
disgrace — if  only  others  need  not  be  dragged  down  too  !  " 

They  were  interrupted  by  a  tap  at  the  door,  and  Swan- 
hild  stole  in,  making  the  pretty  little  courtesy  without 
which  no  well-bred  Norwegian  child  enters  or  leaves  a 
room. 

"  Mayn't  I  come  and  say  good-night  to  you,  little 
father  ?  "  she  asked.  "  I  got  on  ever  so  well  at  school, 
just  as  you  said,  after  our  merry  breakfast." 

The  sight  of  the  child's  unconscious  happiness  was 
more  than  he  could  endure  ;  he  closed  his  eyes  that  she 
might  not  see  the  scalding  tears  which  filled  them. 

"  How  dreadfully  ill  father  looks,"  said  Swanhild  un- 
easily. 

"  His  head  is  very  bad,"  said  Sigrid.  "Kiss  him,  dear, 
and  then  run  to  bed." 

But  Herr  Falck  roused  himself. 

"  I  too  will  go  up,"  he  said.  "  Bed  is  the  best  place, 
eh,  Swanhild  ?  God  bless  you,  little  one  ;  good-night. 
What,  are  you  going  to  be  my  walking-stick  ?  " 

And  thus,  steadying  himself  by  the  child,  he  went  up 
to  his  room. 

At  breakfast  the  next  morning  he  was  in  his  place  as 
usual,  but  he  seemed  very  poorly,  and  afterward  made 
no  suggestion  as  to  going  down  to  the  office,  but  lay  on 
the  sofa  in  his  study,  drowsily  watching  the  flames  in  his 
favorite  English  fireplace.  Sigrid  went  about  the  house, 
busy  with  her  usual  duties,  and  for  the  time  so  much  ab- 
sorbed that  she  almost  forgot  the  great  trouble  hanging 
over  them.  About  eleven  o'clock  there  was  a  ring  at  the 
door-bell  ;  the  servant  brought  in  a  telegram  for  Herr 
Falck.  A  sort  of  wild  hope  seized  her  that  it  might  be 
from  Frithiof.  If  anything  could  cheer  her  father  on  that 
day  it  would  be  to  hear  that  all  was  happily  settled,  and, 
taking  it  from  the  maid,  she  bore  it  herself  into  her  father's 
room.  He  rose  from  the  sofa  as  she  entered. 

"  I  am  better,  Sigrid,"  he  said.  "  I  think  I  could  go  to 
the  office.  Ah  !  a  telegram  for  me  ?  " 

"  It  has  come  this  minute,"  she  said,  watching  him  as 
he  sat  down  before  his  desk,  adjusted  his  spectacles,  and 
tore  open  the  envelope.  If  only  Frithiof  could  send  news 


72  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

that  would  cheer  him  !  If  only  some  little  ray  of  bright- 
ness would  come  to  lighten  that  dark  day  !  She  had  so 
persuaded  herself  that  the  message  must  be  from  Frithiof 
that  the  thought  of  the  business  anxieties  had  become  for 
the  time  quite  subservient.  The  telegram  was  a  long 
one. 

"  How  extravagant  that  boy  is  !  "  she  thought  to  her- 
self. "  Why,  it  would  have  been  enough  if  he  had  just 
put  'All  right.'" 

Then  a  sudden  cry  broke  from  her,  for  her  father  had 
bowed  his  head  on  his  desk  like  a  man  who  is  over- 
whelmed. 

"  Father,  father  ! "  she  cried,  "  oh  !  what  is  the  matter  ?  " 

For  a  minute  or  two  he  neither  spoke  nor  moved.  At 
last,  with  an  effort,  he  raised  himself.  He  looked  up  at 
her  with  a  face  of  fixed  despair,  with  eyes  whose  anguish 
wrung  her  heart. 

"  Sigrid,"  he  said  in  a  voice  unlike  his  own,  "they 
have  taken  the  agency  from  me.  I  am  bankrupt  1  " 

She  put  her  hand  in  his,  too  much  stunned  to  speak. 

"  Poor  children  !  "  he  moaned.  "Ah  !  my  God  !  my 
God  !  Why—?  " 

The  sentence  was  never  ended.  He  fell  heavily  for- 
ward ;  whether  he  was  dead  or  only  fainting  she  could 
not  tell. 

She  rushed  to  the  door  calling  for  help,  and  the  servants 
came  hurrying  to  the  study.  They  helped  to  move  their 
master  to  the  sofa,  and  Sigrid  found  a  sort  of  comfort  in 
the  assurances  of  her  old  nurse  that  it  was  nothing  but  a 
paralytic  seizure,  that  he  would  soon  revive.  The  good 
old  soul  knew  nothing,  nor  was  she  so  hopeful  as  she 
seemed,  but  her  words  helped  Sigrid  to  keep  up  ;  she  be- 
lieved them  in  the  unreasoning  sort  of  way  in  which 
those  in  trouble  always  do  catch  at  the  slightest  hope 
held  out  to  them. 

"I  will  send  Olga  for  the  doctor,"  she  said  breathlessly. 

"Ay,  and  for  your  uncle  too,"  said  the  nurse.  "  He's 
your  own  mother's  brother,  and  ought  to  be  here." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Sigrid  hesitatingly.  "  Yes,  Olga,  go 
to  Herr  Gronvold's  house  and  just  tell  them  of  my  father's 
illness.  But  first  for  the  doctor — as  quick  as  you  can." 

There  followed  a  miserable  time  of  waiting  and  sus- 
pense. Herr  Falck  was  still  perfectly  unconscious  ;  there 
were  signs  of  shock  about  his  face,  which  was  pale  and 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  73 

rigid,  the  eyelids  closed,  the  head  turned  to  one  side. 
Sigrid  took  his  cold  hand  in  hers,  and  sat  with  Lier  fingers 
on  the  pulse ;  she  could  just  feel  it,  but  it  was  very  feebla 
and  very  rapid.  Thus  they  waited  till  the  doctor  came. 
He  was  an  old  friend,  and  Sigrid  felt  almost  at  rest  when 
she  had  told  him  all  he  wanted  to  know  as  to  the  begin- 
ning of  the  attack  and  the  cause. 

"  You  had  better  send  for  your  brother  at  once,"  he 
said.  "  I  suppose  he  will  be  at  the  office." 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  she  said  trembling.  "  Frithiof  is  in  Eng- 
land. But  we  will  telegraph  to  him  to  come  home." 

"  My  poor  child,"  said  the  old  doctor,  kindly,  "  if  he  is 
in  England  it  would  be  of  no  possible  use  ;  he  could  not 
be  in  time. " 

She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  for  the  first  time 
utterly  breaking  down. 

"  Oh  !  is  there  no  hope  ?  "  she  sobbed.  "  No  hope  at 
all  ?  " 

"  Remember  how  much  he  is  spared,"  said  the  doctor, 
gently.  "  He  will  not  suffer.  He  will  not  suffer  at  all 
any  more." 

And  so  it  proved  ;  for  while  many  went  and  came,  and 
while  the  bad  news  of  the  bankruptcy  caused  Herr 
Gronvold  to  pace  the  room  like  one  distracted,  and  while 
Sigrid  and  Swanhild  kept  their  sad  watch,  Herr  Falck  lay 
in  painless  quiet — his  face  so  calm  that,  had  it  not  been 
for  an  occasional  tremor  passing  through  the  paralyzed 
limbs,  they  would  almost  have  thought  he  was  already 
dead. 

The  hours  passed  on.  At  length  little  Swanhild,  who 
had  crouched  down  on  the  floor  with  her  head  in  Sigrid's 
lap,  became  conscious  of  a  sort  of  stir  in  the  room.  She 
looked  up  and  saw  that  the  doctor  was  bending  over  her 
father. 

"It  is  over,"  he  said  in  a  hushed  voice  as  he  stood  up 
and  glanced  toward  the  two  girls. 

And  Swanhild,  who  had  never  seen  any  one  die,  but 
had  read  in  books  of  death  struggles  and  death  agonies, 
was  filled  with  a  great  wonder. 

"  It  was  so  quiet,"  she  said  afterward  to  her  sister.  "I 
never  knew  people  died  like  that  ;  I  don't  think  I  shall 
ever  feel  afraid  about  dying  again.  But  oh,  Sigrid  !  "  and 
ihe  child  broke  into  a  passion  of  tears,"  we  have  got  to 
go  on  living  all  alone — all  alone  !  " 


74  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN1. 

Sigrid's  breast  heaved.  Alas  !  the  poor  child  little  knew 
all  the  troubles  that  were  before  them  ;  as  far  as  possible 
she  must  try  to  shield  her  from  the  knowledge. 

"We  three  must  love  each  other  very  much,  darling," 
she  said,  folding  her  arms  about  Swanhild.  "  We  must 
try  and  be  everything  to  each  other. " 

The  words  made  her  think  of  Frithiof,  and  with  a  sick 
longing  for  his  presence,  she  went  downstairs  again  to 
speak  to  her  uncle,  and  to  arrange  as  to  how  the  news 
should  be  sent  to  England.  Herr  Gronvold  had  never 
quite  appreciated  his  brother-in-law,  and  this  had  always 
made  a  barrier  between  him  and  his  nephew  and  nieces. 
He  was  the  only  relation,  however,  to  whom  Sigrid  could 
turn,  and  she  knew  that  he  was  her  father's  executor,  and 
must  be  consulted  about  all  the  arrangements.  Had  not 
she  and  Frithiof  celebrated  their  twenty-first  birthday  just 
a  week  ago  Herr  Gronvold  would  have  been  their  guard- 
ian, and  naturally  he  would  still  expect  to  have  the  chief 
voice  in  the  family  counsels. 

She  found  him  in  the  sitting-room.  He  was  still  pale 
and  agitated.  She  knew  only  too  well  that  although  he 
would  not  say  a  word  against  her  dead  father,  yet  in  his 
heart  he  would  always  blame  him,  and  that  the  family 
disgrace  would  be  more  keenly  felt  by  him  than  by  any 
one.  The  sight  of  him  entirely  checked  her  tears  ;  she 
sat  down  and  began  to  talk  to  him  quite  calmly.  All  her 
feeling  of  youth  and  helplessness  was  gone  now — she  felt 
old,  strangely  old ;  her  voice  sounded  like  the  voice  of 
some  one  else — it  seemed  to  have  gone  cold  and  hard. 

"What  must  we  do  about  telling  Frithiof,  uncle  ?  "  she 
said. 

"  I  have  thought  of  that,"  said  Herr  Gronvold.  "  It  is 
impossible  that  he  could  be  back  in  time  for  the  funeral. 
This  is  Tuesday  afternoon,  and  he  could  not  catch  this 
week's  steamer,  which  leaves  Hull  at  nine  o'clock  to-night. 
The  only  thing  is  to  telegraph  the  news  to  him,  poor  boy. 
His  best  chance  now  is  to  stay  in  England  and  try  to  find 
some  opening  there,  for  he  has  no  chance  here  at  all." 

Sigrid  caught  her  breath. 

'•'  You  mean  that  he  had  better  not  even  come  back?" 

"Indeed,  I  think  England  is  the  only  hope  for  him," 
said  Herr  Gronvold,  perhaps  hardly  understanding  what 
a  terrible  blow  he  was  giving  to  his  niece.  "  He  is  ab- 
solutely penniless,  and  over  here  feeling  will  be  so  strong 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  75 

against  the  very  name  of  Falck  that  he  would  never  work 
his  way  up.  I  will  gladly  provide  for  you  and  Swanhild 
until  he  is  able  to  make  a  home  for  you  ;  but  he  must  stay 
in  England,  there  is  no  help  for  that." 

She  could  not  dispute  the  point  any  further;  her  uncle's 
words  had  shown  her  only  too  plainly  the  true  meaning 
of  the  word  "bankrupt."  Why,  the  very  chair  she  was 
sitting  on  was  no  longer  her  own  !  A  chill  passed  over 
her  as  she  glanced  round  the  familiar  room.  On  the 
writing-table  she  noticed  her  housekeeping  books,  and 
realized  that  there  was  no  longer  any  money  to  pay  them 
with  ;  on  the  book-shel  stood  the  clock  presented  a  year 
or  two  ago  to  her  father  by  the  clerks  in  his  office — that  too 
must  be  parted  with  ;  everything  most  sacred,  most  dear 
to  her,  everything  associated  with  her  happy  childhood 
and  youth  must  be  swept  away  in  the  vain  endeavor  to 
satisfy  the  just  claims  of  her  father's  creditors.  In  a  sort 
of  dreadful  dream  she  sat  watching  her  uncle  as  he  wrote 
the  message  to  Frithiof,  hesitating  long  over  the  wording 
of  the  sad  tidings,  and  ever  and  anon  counting  the  words 
carefully  with  his  pen.  It  would  cost  a  good  deal,  that 
telegram  to  England.  Sigrid  knew  that  her  uncle  would 
pay  for  it,  and  the  knowledge  kept  her  lips  sealed.  It 
was  absurd  to  long  so  to  send  love  and  sympathy  at  the 
rate  of  thirty  ore  a  word  !  Why,  in  the  whole  world  she 
had  not  so  much  as  a  ten-ore  piece  !  Her  personal  pos- 
sessions might,  perhaps,  legally  belong  to  her,  but  she 
knew  that  there  was  something  within  her  which  would 
utterly  prevent  her  being  able  to  consider  them  her  own. 
Everything  must  go  toward  those  who  would  suffer 
from  her  father's  failure  ;  and  Frithiof  would  feel  just  as 
she  did  about  the  matter,  of  that  she  was  certain. 

"There,  poor  fellow,"  said  Herr  Gronvold,  "  that  will 
give  him  just  the  facts  of  the  case ;  and  you  must  write 
to  him,  Sigrid,  and  I,  too,  will  write  by  the  next  mail." 

"  I  am  afraid  he  cannot  get  a  letter  till  Monday,"  said 
Sigrid. 

"No,  there  is  no  help  for  that,"  said  Herr  Gronvold. 
"  I  shall  do  all  that  can  be  done  with  regard  to  the  busi- 
ness ;  that  he  will  know  quite  well,  and  his  return  later 
on  would  be  a  mere  waste  of  time  and  money.  He  must 
seek  work  in  London  without  delay,  and  I  have  told  him 
so.  Do  you  think  this  is  clear?  " 


76  A  HARDY  HORSEMAN: 

He  handed  her  the  message  he  had  written,  and  she 
read  it  through,  though  each  word  was  like  a  stab. 

"  Quite  clear,"  she  said,  returning  it  to  him. 

Her  voice  was  so  tired  and  worn  that  it  attracted  his 
notice  for  the  first  time. 

"My  dear,"  he  said,  kindly,  "  it  has  been  a  terrible  day 
for  you  ;  you  had  better  go  to  bed  and  rest.  Leave  every- 
thing to  me.  I  promise  you  all  shall  be  attended  to." 

"You  are  very  kind,"  she  said,  yet  with  all  the  time  a 
terrible  craving  for  something  more  than  this  sort  of  kind- 
ness, for  something  which  was  perhaps  beyond  Herr 
Gron  void's  power  to  give. 

"Would  you  like  your  aunt  or  one  of  your  cousins  to 
spend  the  night  here?  "  he  asked. 

"No,"  she  said ;  "I  am  better  alone.  They  will  come 
to-morrow.  I — I  will  rest  now." 

"Very  well.  Good-bye  then,  my  dear.  I  will  send  off 
the  telegram  at  once." 

She  heard  the  door  close  behind  him  with  a  sense  of 
relief,  yet  before  many  minutes  had  passed,  the  dreadful 
quiet  of  the  house  seemed  almost  more  than  she  could 
endure. 

"Oh,  Frithiof !  Frithiof !  why  did  you  ever  go  to  Eng- 
land? "  she  moaned 

And  as  she  sat  crouched  together  in  one  of  the  deep  easy- 
chairs,  it  seemed  to  her  that  the  physical  faintness,  the 
feeling  that  everything  was  sliding  away  from  her,  was 
but  the  shadow  of  the  bitter  reality.  She  was  roused  by 
the  opening  of  the  door.  Her  old  nurse  stole  in. 

"  See  here,  Sigrid,"  said  the  old  woman.  "The  pastor 
has  come.  You  will  see  him  in  here  ?  " 

"I  don't  think  I  can,"  she  said  wearily. 

"He  is  in  the  dining-room  talking  to  Swanhild,"  said 
the  nurse  :  "you  had  better  just  see  him  a  minute." 

But  still  Sigrid  did  not  stir.  It  was  only  when  little 
Swanhild  stole  in,  with  her  wistful,  tear-stained  face,  that 
she  even  tried  to  rouse  herself. 

"Sigrid,"  said  the  child,  "Heir  Askevold  has  been  out 
all  day  with  some  one  who  was  dying,  he  is  very  tired 
and  has  had  no  dinner,  he  says  if  he  may  he  will  have 
supper  with  us." 

Sigrid  at  once  started  to  her  feet,  her  mind  was  for  the 
moment  diverted  from  her  own  troubles,  it  was  the  thought 
of  the  dear  old  pastor,  tired  and  hungry,  yet  coming  to 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  77 

them,  nevertheless,  which  touched  her  heart.  Other 
friends  might  perhaps  forsake  them  in  their  trouble  and 
disgrace  but  not  Herr  Askevold.  Later  on,  when  she 
thought  it  over,  she  knew  that  it  was  for  the  sake  of  in- 
ducing them  to  eat,  and  for  the  sake  of  helping  them 
through  that  terrible  first  meal  without  their  father,  that 
he  had  come  in  just  then.  She  only  felt  the  relief  of  his 
presence  at  the  time,  was  only  conscious  that  she  was  less 
desolate  because  the  old  white-haired  man,  who  had 
baptized  her  as  a  baby  and  confirmed  her  as  a  girl,  was 
sitting  with  them  at  the  supper-table.  His  few  words  of 
sympathy  as  he  greeted  her  had  been  the  first  words  of 
comfort  which  had  reached  her  heart,  and  now,  as  he  cut 
the  bread  and  helped  the  fish,  there  was  something  in  the 
very  smallness  and  fineness  of  his  consideration  and  care 
for  them  which  filled  her  with  far  more  gratitude  than  Herr 
Gronvold's  offer  of  a  home.  They  did  not  talk  very  much 
during  the  meal,  but  little  Swanhild  ceased  to  wonder 
whether  it  was  wrong  to  feel  so  hungry  on  such  a  day, 
and,  no  longer  ashamed  of  her  appetite  went  on  naturally 
and  composedly  with  her  supper ;  while  Sigrid,  with  her 
strong  Norwegian  sense  of  hospitality,  ate  for  her  guest's 
sake,  and  in  thinking  of  his  wants  was  roused  from  her 
state  of  blank  hopelessness. 

Afterward  she  took  him  to  her  father's  room,  her  tears 
stealing  down  quietly  as  she  looked  once  more  on  the 
calm,  peaceful  face,  that  would  never  again  bear  the  look 
of  strained  anxiety  which  had  of  late  grown  so  familiar  to 
her. 

And  then  Herr  Askevold  knelt  by  the  bedside  and 
prayed.  She  could  never  quite  remember  in  after  days 
what  it  was  that  he  said,  perhaps  she  never  very  clearly 
took  in  the  actual  words  ;  but  something,  either  in  his 
tone  or  manner,  brought  to  her  the  sense  of  a  presence 
altogether  above  all  the  changes  that  had  been  or  ever 
could  be.  This  new  consciousness  seemed  to  fill  her  with 
strength,  and  a  great  tenderness  for  Swanhild  came  to 
her  heart ;  she  wondered  how  it  was  she  could  ever  have 
fancied  that  all  had  been  taken  from  her. 

As  they  rose  from  their  knees  and  the  old  pastor  took 
her  hand  in  his  to  wish  her  good-bye,  he  glanced  a  little 
anxiously  into  her  eyes.  But  something  he  saw  there 
comforted  him. 

"God  bless  you,  my  child,"  he  said. 


7 8  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

And  again,  as  they  opened  the  front  door  to  him  and  he 
stepped  out  into  the  dark  wintry  night,  he  looked  back, 
and  said  : 

"God  comfort  you." 

Sigrid  stood  on  the  threshold,  behind  her  the  lighted 
hall,  before  her  the  starless  gloom  of  the  outer  world,  her 
arm  was  round  little  Swanhild,  and,  as  she  bade  him 
good  night,  she  smiled,  one  of  those  brave,  patient  smiles 
that  are  sadder  than  tears. 

" The  light  behind  her,  and  the  dark  before,"  said  the 
old  pastor  to  himself,  as  he  walked  home  wearily  enough. 
"It  is  like  her  life,  poor  child!  And  yet  I  am  some- 
how not  much  afraid  for  her.  It  is  for  Frithiof  I  am 
afraid." 


CHAPTER   IX. 

WHEN  Frithiof  found  that,  instead  of  addressing  a 
stranger  at  Hyde  Park  Corner,  he  had  actually  spoken  to 
Roy  Boniface,  his  first  feeling  had  been  of  mere  blank  as- 
tonishment. Then  he  vehemently  wished  himself  alone 
once  more,  and  cursed  the  fate  which  had  first  brought  him 
into  contact  with  the  little  child  by  the  Serpentine,  and 
which  had  now  actually  thrown  him  into  the  arms  of  a 
being  who  would  talk  and  expect  to  be  talked  to.  Yet 
this  feeling  also  passed  ;  for  as  he  looked  down  the  unfa- 
miliar roads,  and  felt  once  more  the  desolateness  of  a  for- 
eigner in  a  strange  country,  he  was  obliged  to  own  that 
it  was  pleasant  to  him  to  hear  Roy's  well-known  voice, 
and  to  feel  that  there  was  in  London  a  being  who  took 
some  sort  of  interest  in  his  affairs. 

"  I  wish  I  had  seen  you  a  minute  or  two  sooner  ;  my 
mother  and  my  sister  were  in  that  carriage,"  said  Roy, 
"and  they  would  have  liked  to  meet  you.  You  must 
come  and  see  us  some  day ;  or  are  you  quite  too  busy  to 
spare  time  for  such  an  out-of-the-way  place  as  Brixton  ?  " 

"Thank  you.  My  plans  are  very  uncertain,"  said 
Frithiof.  "  I  shall  probably  only  be  over  here  for  a  few 
days." 

"  Have  you  come  across  the  Morgans?"  asked  Roy, 
"or  any  of  our  other  companions  at  Balholm  ?  " 

In  his  heart  he  felt  sure  that  the  young  Norwegian's 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  79 

visit  was  connected  with  Blanche  Morgan,  for  their 
mutual  liking  had  been  common  property  at  Balholm,  and 
even  the  semi-engagement  was  shrewdly  guessed  at  by 
many  of  the  other  tourists. 

Frithiof  knew  this,  and  the  question  was  like  a  sword- 
thrust  to  him.  Had  it  not  been  so  nearly  dark  Roy  could 
hardly  have  failed  to  notice  his  change  of  color  and  ex- 
pression. But  he  had  great  self-control,  and  his  voice 
was  quite  steady,  though  a  little  cold  and  monotonous  in 
tone,  as  he  replied  : 

"  I  have  just  been  to  call  on  the  Morgans,  and  have 
only  just  learned  that  their  business  relations  with  our  firm 
are  at  an  end.  The  connection  is  of  so  many  years' 
standing  that  I  am  afraid  it  will  be  a  great  blow  to  my 
father. " 

Roy  began  to  see  daylight,  and  perceived,  what  had  first 
escaped  his  notice,  that  some  great  change  had  passed 
over  his  companion  since  they  parted  on  the  Sogne  Fjord  ; 
very  possibly  the  business  relations  might  affect  his  hopes, 
and  make  the  engagement  no  longer  possible. 

"That  was  bad  news  to  greet  you,"  he  said,  with  an 
uneasy  consciousness  that  it  was  very  difficult  to  know 
what  to  say.  "  Herr  Falck  would  feel  a  change  of  that 
sort  keenly,  I  should  think.  What  induced  them  to  make 
it  ? " 

"Self-interest,"  said  Frithiof,  still  in  the  same  tone. 
"  No  doubt  they  came  to  spy  out  the  land  in  the  summer. 
As  the  head  of  the  firm  remarked  to  me  just  now,  it  is 
impossible  to  sentimentalize  over  old  connections — busi- 
ness is  business,  and  of  course  they  are  bound  to  look  out 
for  themselves — what  happens  to  us  is,  naturally,  no  affair 
of  theirs." 

Roy  would  not  have  thought  much  of  the  sarcasm  of 
this  speech  if  it  had  been  spoken  by  any  one  else,  but 
from  the  lips  of  such  a  fellow  as  Frithiof  Falck,  it  startled 
him. 

They  were  walking  along  Piccadilly,  each  of  them  turn- 
ing over  in  his  mind  how  he  could  best  get  away  from  the 
other,  yet  with  an  uneasy  feeling  that  they  were  in  some 
way  linked  together  by  that  summer  holiday,  and  that  if 
they  parted  now  they  would  speedily  regret  it.  Roy, 
with  the  increasing  consciousness  of  his  companion's 
trouble,  only  grew  more  perplexed  and  ill  at  ease.  He 
tried  to  picture  to  himself  the  workings  of  the  Norwegian's 


Bo  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

mind,  and,  as  they  walked  on  in  silence,  some  faint  idea 
of  the  effect  of  the  surroundings  upon  the  new-comer  be- 
gan to  dawn  upon  him.  What  a  contrast  was  all  this  to 
quiet  Norway  !  The  brightly  lighted  shops,  the  busy 
streets,  the  hurry  and  bustle,  the  ever-changing  crowd  of 
strange  faces. 

"  Do  you  know  many  people  in  London  ?  "  he  asked, 
willing  to  shift  his  responsibility  if  possible. 

"No,"  said  Frithiof,   "  I  do  not  know  a  soul." 

He  relapsed  into  silence.  Roy's  thoughts  went  back  to 
his  first  day  at  Bergen  ;  he  seemed  to  live  it  all  through 
once  more  ;  he  remembered  how  Frithiof  Falck  had  got 
the  Linnasa  for  them,  how  he  had  taken  them  for  shelter 
to  his  fathers  house  ;  the  simplicity  and  the  happiness  of 
the  scene  came  back  to  him  vividly,  and  he  glanced  at  his 
companion  as  though  to  verify  his  past  impressions.  The 
light  from  a  street  lamp  fell  on  Frithiof  at  that  moment, 
and  Roy  started ;  the  Norwegian  had  perhaps  forgotten 
that  he  was  not  alone,  at  any  rate  he  wore  an  expression 
which  had  not  hitherto  been  visible.  There  was  some- 
thing about  his  pale,  set  face  which  alarmed  Roy,  and 
scattered  to  the  winds  all  his  selfishness  and  awkward 
shyness. 

"Then,  you  will,  of  course,  dine  with  me,"  he  said, 
"since  you  have  no  other  engagement." 

And  Frithiof,  still  wishing  to  be  alone,  and  yet  still 
dreading  it,  thanked  him  and  accepted  the  invitation. 

The  ice  once  broken,  they  got  on  rather  better,  and,  as 
they  dined  together,  Roy  carefully  abstained  from  talking 
of  the  days  at  Balholm,  but  asked  after  Sigrid  and  Swan- 
hild  and  Herr  Falck,  talked  of  the  winter  in  Norway,  of 
skating,  of  Norwegian  politics,  of  everything  he  could 
think  of  which  could  divert  his  friend's  mind  from  the 
Morgans. 

"What  next,"  he  said,  as  they  found  themselves  once 
more  in  the  street.  "Since  you  go  back  soon  we  ought 
to  make  the  most  of  the  time.  Shall  we  come  to  the 
Savoy  ?  You  must  certainly  hear  a  Gilbert  and  Sullivan 
opera  before  you  leave. " 

"I  am  not  in  the  mood  for  it  to-night,"  said  Frithiof. 
"And  it  has  just  struck  me  that  possibly  my  father  may 
telegraph  instructions  to  me — he  would  have  got  Mor- 
gan's telegram  this  morning.  I  will  go  back  to  the  Arun- 
del  and  see." 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  8 1 

This  r'dea  seemed  to  rouse  him.  He  became  much  more 
like  himself,  and,  as  they  walked  down  the  Strand,  the 
conversation  dragged  much  less.  For  the  first  time  he 
spoke  of  the  work  that  awaited  him  on  his  return  to  Ber- 
gen, and  Roy  began  to  think  that  his  scheme  for  divert- 
ing him  from  his  troubles  had  been,  on  the  whole,  a  suc- 
cess. 

"  We  must  arrange  what  day  you  will  come  down  to  us 
at  Brixton,"  he  said,  as  they  turned  down  Arundel  Street. 
"  Would  to-morrow  suit  you  ?  " 

"As  far  as  I  know,  it  would/'  said  Frithiof ;  "but  if 
you  will  just  come  into  the  hotel  with  me  we  will  find  out 
if  there  is  any  message  from  my  father.  If  there  is  noth- 
ing, why,  I  am  perfectly  free.  It  is  possible,  though,  that 
he  will  have  business  for  me  to  see  to." 

Accordingly,  they  went  into  the  hotel  together,  and 
Frithiof  accosted  a  waiter  in  the  entrance  hall. 

"Anything  come  for  me  since  I  went  out?  "  he  asked. 

' '  Yes,  sir,  I  believe  there  is,  sir.     Herr  Falck,  is  it  not  ? " 

He  brought  forward  a  telegram  and  handed  it  to  Frit- 
hiof, who  hurriedly  tore  open  the  orange  envelope  and 
began  eagerly  to  read.  As  he  read,  every  shade  of  color 
left  his  face  ;  the  telegram  was  in  Norwegian,  and  its 
terse,  matter-of-fact  statement  overwhelmed  him.  Like 
one  in  some  dreadful  dream  he  read  the  words  :  "  Father 
bankrupt  owing  to  failure  Iceland  expedition,  also  loss 
Morgan's  agency."  There  was  more  beyond,  but  this  so 
staggered  him  that  he  looked  up  from  the  fatal  pink  paper 
with  a  sort  of  wild  hope  that  his  surroundings  would  re- 
assure him,  that  he  should  find  it  all  a  mistake.  He  met 
the  curious  eyes  of  the  waiter,  he  saw  two  girls  in  even- 
ing dress  crossing  the  vestibule. 

"We  ought  to  be  at  the  Lyceum  by  this  time  !  "  he 
heard  one  of  them  say  to  the  other.  "How  annoying  of 
father  to  be  so  late  !  " 

The  girl  addressed  had  a  sweet,  sunshiny  face. 

"Oh,  he  will  soon  be  here,"  she  said,  smiling,  but  as 
her  eyes  happened  to  fall  on  Frithiof  she  grew  suddenly 
grave  and  compassionate  ;  she  seemed  to  glance  from  his 
face  to  the  telegram  in  his  hand,  and  her  look  brought  him 
a  horrible  perception  that  after  all  this  was  real  waking 
existence.  It  was  a  real  telegram  he  held,  it  was  all  true, 
hideously  true,  His  father  was  bankrupt. 
6 


82  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

Shame,  misery,  bitter  indignation  with  the  Morgans,  a 
sickening  perception  that  if  Blanche  had  been  true  to  him 
the  worst  might  have  been  averted,  all  this  seethed  in  his 
mind.  With  a  desperate  effort  he  steadied  his  hand  and 
again  bent  his  eyes  on  the  pink  paper  and  the  large  round- 
hand  scrawl.  Oh,  yes,  there  was  no  mistake,  he  read 
the  fatal  words  again:  "Father  bankrupt  owing  to  fail- 
ure Iceland  expedition,  also  loss  Morgan's  agency."  By 
this  time  he  had  partly  recovered,  was  sufficiently  himself 
again  to  feel  some  sort  of  anxiety  to  read  the  rest  of  the 
message.  Possibly  there  was  something  he  might  do  to 
help  his  father.  He  read  on  and  took  in  the  next  sen- 
tence almost  at  a  glance.  "Shock  caused  cerebral 
haemorrhage.  He  died  this  afternoon. 

Frithiof  felt  a  choking  sensation  in  his  throat,  if  he  could 
not  get  out  into  the  open  air  he  felt  that  he  should  die, 
and  by  an  instinct  he  turned  toward  the  door,  made  a  step 
or  two  forward,  then  staggered  and  caught  at  Roy  Boni- 
face to  save  himself  from  falling. 

Roy  held  him  up  and  looked  at  him  anxiously. 

"You  have  had  bad  news  ?  "  he  asked. 

Frithiof  tried  to  speak,  but  no  words  would  come,  he 
gasped  for  breath,  felt  his  limbs  failing,  saw  a  wavy  con- 
fused picture  of  the  vestibule,  the  waiter,  the  two  girls,  an 
elderly  gentleman  joining  them,  then  felt  himself  guided 
down  on  to  the  floor,  never  quite  losing  consciousness, 
yet  helpless  either  to  speak  or  move  and  with  a  most  con- 
fused sense  of  what  had  passed. 

"It  is  in  Norwegian,"  he  heard  Roy  say.  "Bad  news 
from  his  home,  I  am  afraid/' 

"  Poor  fellow  !  "  said  another  voice.  "Open  the  door 
some  one.  It's  air  he  wants." 

' '  I  saw  there  was  something  wrong,  father, "  this  was 
in  a  girl's  voice.  "He  looked  quite  dazed  with  trouble  as 
he  read." 

"You'll  be  late  for  the  Lyceum,"  thought  Frithiof,  and 
making  an  effort  to  get  up  he  sank  for  a  moment  into 
deeper  depths  of  fain tn ess ;  the  voices  died  away  into 
indistinctness,  then  came  a  consciousness  of  hands  at  his 
shoulders  and  his  feet,  he  was  lifted  up  and  carried  away 
somewhere. 

Struggling  back  to  life  again  in  a  few  moments  he  found 
that  he  was  lying  on  a  bed,  the  window  was  wide  open 
and  a  single  candle  flickered  wildly  in  the  draught,  Roy 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  83' 

Boniface  was  standing  by  him  holding-  a  glass  of  water  to 
his  lips.     With  an  effort  he  drank. 

"You  are  better,  sir?"  asked  the  waiter.  "Anything 
I  can  do  for  you,  sir  ?  Any  answer  to  the  telegram  ? " 

"The  telegram!  What  do  you  mean?"  exclaimed 
Frithiof.  Then  as  full  recollection  came  back  to  him,  he 
turned  his  face  from  the  light  with  a  groan. 

"The  gentleman  had,  perhaps,  better  see  a  doctor," 
suggested  the  waiter  to  Roy. 

But  Frithiof  turned  upon  him  sharply.  "I  am  better. 
You  can  go  away.  All  I  want  is  to  be  alone." 

The  man  retired,  but  Roy  still  lingered.  He  could  not 
make  up  his  mind  to  leave  any  one  in  such  a  plight,  so  he 
crossed  the  room  and  stood  by  the  open  window  looking 
out  gravely  at  the  dark  river  with  its  double  row  of  lights 
and  their  long  shining  reflections.  Presently  a  sound  in 
the  room  made  him  turn.  Frithiof  had  dragged  himself 
up  to  his  feet,  with  an  impatient  gesture  he  blew  out  the 
flickering  candle,  then  walked  with  unsteady  steps  to  the 
window  and  dropped  into  a  chair. 

"So  you  are  here  still?  "  he  said,  with  something  of 
relief  in  his  tone. 

"I  couldn't  bear  to  leave  till  you  were  all  right  again," 
said  Roy.  "Won't  you  tell  me  what  is  the  matter, 
Falck  ? " 

"  My  father  is  dead,"  said  Frithiof,  in  an  unnaturally 
calm  voice. 

"  Dead  !  "  exclaimed  Roy,  and  his  tone  had  in  it  much 
more  of  awe  and  regret.  He  could  hardly  believe  that  the 
genial,  kindly  Norwegian  who  had  climbed  Munkeggen 
with  them  only  a  few  weeks  before,  was  actually  no 
longer  in  the  world. 

"  He  is  dead,"  repeated  Frithiof  quietly. 

"But  how  was  it  ?"  asked  Roy.  "  It  must  have  been 
so  sudden.  You  left  him  well  only  three  days  ago.  How 
was  it  ? " 

"His  Iceland  expedition  had  failed,"  said  Frithiof, 
"that  meant  a  fatal  blow  to  his  business;  then,  this 
morning,  there  came  to  him  Morgan's  telegram  about  the 
agency.  It  was  that  that  killed  him." 

"Good  God  !  "  exclaimed  Roy,  with  indignation  in  his 
voice. 

"  Leave  out  the  adjective,"  said  Frithiof  bitterly.  "If 
there  is  a  God  at  all  He  is  hard  and  merciless.  Business 


84  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

is  business,  you  see,  one  can't  sentimentalize  over  old 
connections.  God  allows  men  like  Morgan  to  succeed, 
they  always  do  succeed,  and  He  lets  men  like  my  father 
be  dragged  down  into  shame  and  dishonor  and  ruin." 

Roy  was  silent,  he  had  no  glib,  conventional  sentences 
ready  to  hand.  In  his  own  mind  he  frankly  admitted  that 
the  problem  was  beyond  him.  He  knew  quite  well  that 
far  too  often  in  business  life  it  was  the  pushing,  un- 
scrupulous, selfish  man  who  makes  his  fortune,  and  the 
man  of  Herr  Falck's  type,  sensitive,  conscientious,  al- 
together honorable,  who  had  to  content  himself  with  small 
means,  or  who,  goaded  at  last  to  rashness,  staked  all  on 
a  desperate  last  throw  and  failed.  It  was  a  problem  that 
perplexed  him  every  day  of  his  life,  the  old,  old  problem 
which  Job  dashed  his  heart  against,  and  for  which  only 
Job's  answer  will  suffice.  Vaguely  he  felt  that  there  must 
be  some  other  standard  of  success  than  that  of  the  world  ; 
he  believed  that  it  was  but  the  first  act  of  the  drama  which 
we  could  at  present  see  ;  but  he  honestly  owned  that  the 
first  act  was  often  perplexing  enough. 

Nevertheless,  it  was  his  very  silence  which  attracted 
Frithiof ;  had  he  spoken,  had  he  argued,  had  he  put  forth 
the  usual  platitudes,  the  two  would  have  been  forever 
separated.  But  he  just  leaned  against  the  window-frame, 
looking  out  at  the  dark  river,  musing  over  the  story  he  had 
just  heard,  and  wondering  what  the  meaning  of  it  could 
be.  The  "Why?"  which  had  been  the  last  broken 
ejaculation  of  the  dead  man  echoed  in  the  hearts  of  these 
two  who  had  been  brought  together  so  strangely.  Into 
Roy's  mind  there  came  the  line,  "  Tis  held  that  sorrow 
makes  us  wise."  But  he  had  a  strong  feeling  that  in 
Frithiof  s  case  sorrow  would  harden  andimbitter;  indeed, 
it  seemed  to  him  already  that  his  companion's  whole 
nature  was  changed.  It  was  almost  difficult  to  believe 
that  he  was  the  same  high-spirited  boy  who  had  been  the 
life  of  the  party  at  Balholm,  who  had  done  the  honors  of 
the  villa  in  Kalvedalen  so  pleasantly.  And  then  as  he 
contrasted  that  bright  homely  room  at  Bergen  with  this 
dark  forlorn  hotel-room  in  London,  a  feeling  that  he  must 
get  his  companion  away  into  some  less  dreary  atmosphere 
took  possession  of  him. 

"  Don't  stay  all  alone  in  this  place,"  he  said  abruptly 
"Come  home  with  me  to-night." 

"You  are  very  good,"  said  Frithiof,  "but  I  don't  think 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  85 

I  can  do  that.     I  am  better  alone,  and  indeed  must  make 
up  my  mind  to-night  as  to  the  future." 

"You  will  go  back  to  Norway,  I  suppose?"  asked 
Roy. 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so  ;  as  soon  as  possible.  To-morrow 
I  must  see  if  there  is  any  possibility  of  getting  back  in 
fair  time.  Unluckily,  it  is  too  late  for  the  Wilson  line 
steamer,  which  must  be  starting  at  this  minute  from 
Hull." 

"  I  will  come  in  to-morrow  then  and  see  what  you  have 
decided  on,"  said  Roy.  "  Is  there  nothing  I  can  do  for 
you  now  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  thank  you,"  said  Frithiof. 

And  Roy,  feeling  that  he  could  be  of  no  more  use,  and 
that  his  presence  was  perhaps  a  strain  on  his  friend, 
wished  him  good-night  and  went  out. 

The  next  day  he  was  detained  by  business  and  could 
not  manage  to  call  at  the  Arundel  till  late  in  the  afternoon. 
Noticing  the  same  waiter  in  the  hall  who  had  been 
present  on  the  previous  evening  he  inquired  if  Frithiof 
were  in. 

"  Herr  Falck  has  gone,  sir,"  said  the  man  ;  "he  went 
off  about  an  hour  ago." 

"  Gone  !  "  exclaimed  Roy  in  some  surprise.  "  Did  he 
leave  any  message?" 

"No,  sir,  none  at  all.  He  was  looking  very  ill  when  he 
came  down  this  morning,  but  went  out  as  soon  as  he 
had  had  breakfast  and  didn't  come  back  till  four  o'clock. 
Then  he  called  for  his  bill  and  ordered  his  portmanteau  to 
be  brought  down  and  put  on  a  hansom,  and  as  he  passed 
out  he  gave  me  a  trifle,  and  said  he  had  spoken  a  bit  sharp 
to  me  last  night,  he  was  afraid,  and  thanked  me  for  what 
I  had  done  for  him.  And  so  he  drove  off,  sir." 

"  You  didn't  hear  where  he  was  going  to?" 

"  No,  sir ;  I  can't  say  as  I  did.  The  cab,  if  I  remember 
right,  turned  along  the  Embankment,  toward  Charing 
Cross. " 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Roy.  "  Very  possibly  he  may  have 
gone  back  to  Norway  by  the  Continent." 

And  with  a  feeling  of  vague  disappointment  he  turned 
away. 


86  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 


CHAPTER  X. 

WHEN  Roy  Boniface  had  gone  Frithiof  sat  for  a  long 
time  without  stirring.  He  had  longed  to  be  alone,  and 
yet  the  moment  he  had  got  his  wish  the  most  crushing 
sense  of  desolation  overwhelmed  him.  He,  too,  was 
keenly  conscious  of  that  change  in  his  own  nature  which 
had  been  quite  apparent  to  Roy.  It  seemed  to  him  that 
everything  had  been  taken  from  him  in  one  blow — love, 
hope,  his  father,  his  home,  his  stainless  name,  his  oc- 
cupation, his  fortune,  and  even  his  old  self.  It  was  an 
entirely  different  character  with  which  he  now  had  to 
reckon,  and  an  entirely  new  life  which  he  had  to  live. 
Both  character  and  surroundings  had  been  suddenly 
changed  very  much  for  the  worse.  He  had  got  to  put  up 
with  them,,  and  somehow  to  endure  life.  That  was  the 
only  thing  clear  to  him.  The  little  child  by  the  Serpentine 
had  given  him  so  much  standing  ground,  but  he  had  not 
an  inch  more  at  present ;  all  around  him  was  a  miserable, 
cheerless,  gray  mist.  Presently,  becoming  aware  that  the 
cold  wind  from  the  river  was  no  longer  reviving  him  but 
chilling  him  to  the  bone,  he  roused  himself  to  close  the 
window.  Mechanically  he  drew  down  the  blind,  struck 
a  light,  and  noticing  that  on  the  disordered  bed  there  lay 
the  crumpled  pink  paper  which  had  brought  him  the  bad 
news,  he  picked  it  up,  smoothed  it  out,  and  read  it  once 
more. 

There  was  still  something  which  he  had  not  seen  in  the 
first  horrible  shock  of  realizing  his  father's  death.  With 
darkening  brow  he  read  the  words  which  Herr  Gronvold 
had  weighed  so  carefully  and  counted  so  often. 

"I  will  provide  for  your  sisters  till  you  can.  Impos- 
sible for  you  to  return  in  time  for  funeral.  My  advice  is 
try  for  work  in  London.  No  opening  here  for  you,  as 
feeling  will  be  strong  against  family." 

It  was  only  then  that  he  actually  took  in  the  fact  that 
he  was  penniless — indeed  far  worse  than  penniless — 
weighed  down  by  a  load  of  debts  which,  if  not  legally 
his,  were  his  burden  none  the  less.  There  were,  as  he 
well  knew,  many  who  failed  with  a  light  heart,  who  were 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  87 

bankrupt  one  week  and  starting  afresh  with  perfect  uncon- 
cern the  next,  but  he  was  too  much  his  father's  son  to 
take  the  disaster  that  way.  The  disgrace  and  the  per- 
ception of  being  to  blame  which  had  killed  Herr  Falck 
now  fell  upon  him  with  crushing  force ;  he  paced  the 
room  like  one  distracted,  always  with  the  picture  before 
him  of  what  was  now  going  on  in  Bergen,  always  with 
the  thought  of  the  suffering  and  misery  which  would 
result  from  the  failure  of  a  firm  so  old  and  so  much  re- 
spected as  his  father's. 

And  yet  it  was  out  of  this  very  torture  of  realization 
that  his  comfort  at  last  sprang — such  comfort  at  least  as 
he  was  at  present  capable  of  receiving.  We  must  all  have 
some  sort  of  future  to  look  to,  some  sort  of  aim  before 
us,  or  life  would  be  intolerable.  The  veriest  beggar  in 
the  street  concentrates  his  thought  on  the  money  to  be 
made,  or  the  shelter  to  be  gained  for  the  coming  night. 
And  there  came,  fortunately,  to  Frithiof,  jilted,  ruined, 
bereaved  as  he  was,  one  strong  desire — one  firm  resolve. 
He  would  pay  off  his  father's  debts  to  the  last  farthing  ; 
he  would  work,  he  would  slave,  he  would  deny  himself 
all  but  the  bare  necessities  of  life.  The  name  of  Falck 
should  yet  be  redeemed  ;  and  a  glow  of  returning  hope 
rose  in  his  heart  as  he  remembered  his  father's  parting 
words,  "I  look  to  you,  Frithiof,  to  carry  out  the  aims 
in  which  I  myself  have  failed,  to  live  the  life  I  could  wish 
to  have  lived."  Yet  how  different  all  had  been  when 
those  words  had  been  spoken  !  The  recollection  of  them 
did  him  good — brought  him,  as  it  were,  back  to  life  again 
— but  at  the  same  time  they  were  the  most  cruel  pain. 

He  saw  again  the  harbor  at  Bergen,  the  ships,  the 
mountains,  the  busy  quay,  he  saw  his  father  so  vividly 
that  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  must  actually  be  before 
him  at  that  very  moment,  the  tone  of  his  voice  rang  in 
his  ears,  the  pressure  of  his  hand  seemed  yet  to  linger 
with  him. 

What  wonder  that  it  should  still  be  so  fresh  in  his 
memory  ?  It  was  only  three  days  ago.  Only  three  days  ! 
Yet  the  time  to  look  back  on  now  seemed  more  like  three 
years.  With  amazement  he  dwelt  on  the  fact,  thinking,  as 
we  mostly  do  in  sudden  trouble,  how  little  time  it  takes  for 
things  to  happen.  It  is  a  perception  that  does  not  come 
to  us  in  the  full  swing  of  life,  when  all  seems  safe  and  full 
of  bright  promise,  any  more  than  in  yachting  it  troubles 


88  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN 

us  to  reflect  that  there  is  only  a  plank  between  ourselves 
and  the  unfathomed  depths  of  the  sea.  We  expect  all  to 
go  well,  we  feel  no  fear,  we  enjoy  life  easily,  and  when 
disaster  comes  its  rude  haste  astounds  us — so  much  is 
changed  in  one  sudden,  crushing  blow. 

He  remembered  how  he  had  whistled  the  "Bridal  Song 
of  the  Hardanger,"  as  he  cheerfully  paced  the  deck  full 
of  thoughts  of  Blanche  and  of  the  bright  future  that  was 
opening  before  him.  The  tune  rang  in  his  ears  now  with 
a  mournful  persistence.  He  buried  his  face  in  his  hands, 
letting  the  flood  of  grief  sweep  over  him,  opposing  to  it 
no  thought  of  comfort,  no  recollection  of  what  was  still 
left  to  him.  If  Blanche  had  been  faithful  to  him  all  might 
have  been  different ;  her  father  would  never  have  taken 
away  the  agency  if  she  had  told  him  the  truth  when  she 
first  got  home  ;  the  Iceland  expedition  might  have  failed, 
but  his  father  could  have  got  voluntary  agreement  with 
his  creditors,  he  himself  might  perhaps  have  been  put  at 
the  head  of  the  branch  at  Stavanger,  all  would  have  been 
well. 

In  bitter  contrast  he  called  up  a  picture  of  the  desolate 
house  in  Kalvedalen,  thought  of  Herr  Gronvold  making 
the  final  arrangements,  and  alternately  pitying  and  blam- 
ing his  brother-in-law  ;  thought  of  Sigrid  and  Swanhild  in 
their  sorrow  and  loneliness  ;  thought  of  his  father  lying 
cold  and  still.  Choking  sobs  rose  in  his  throat  as  more 
and  more  clearly  he  realized  that  all  was  indeed  over,  that 
he  should  never  see  his  father  again.  But  his  eyes  were 
dry  and  tearless,  the  iron  had  entered  into  his  soul,  and 
all  the  relief  that  was  then  possible  for  him  lay  in  a 
prompt  endeavor  to  carry  out  the  resolve  which  he  had 
just  made. 

Perhaps  he  perceived  this,  for  he  raised  himself,  ban- 
ished the  mind  pictures  which  had  absorbed  him  so  long, 
and  began  to  think  what  his  first  practical  step  must  be. 
He  would  lose  no  time,  he  would  begin  that  very  mo- 
ent.  The  first  thing  must  of  course  be  retrenchment,  he 
must  leave  the  Arundel  on  the  morrow  and  must  seek  out 
the  cheapest  rooms  to  be  had.  Lying  on  the  table  was 
that  invaluable  book,  "Dickens's  Dictionary  of  London." 
He  had  bought  it  at  Hull  on  the  previous  day,  and  had 
already  got  out  of  it  much  amusement  and  much  infor- 
mation. Now,  in  grim  earnest,  he  turned  over  its  well- 
arranged  pages  till  he  came  to  the  heading  "  Lodgings," 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  89 

running  his  eye  hurriedly  over  the  paragraph,  and  paus- 
ing over  the  following  sentence: — "Those  who  desire 
still  cheaper  accommodation  must  go  farther  afield,  the 
lowest  priced  of  all  being  in  the  northeast  and  southeast 
districts,  in  either  of  which  a  bed  and  sitting-room  may 
be  had  at  rents  varying  from  ten  shillings,  and  even  less, 
to  thirty  shillings." 

He  turned  to  the  maps  at  the  beginning  and  decided  to 
try  the  neighborhood  of  Vauxhall  and  Lambeth. 

Next  came  the  question  of  work.  And  here  the  vast- 
ness  of  the  field  perplexed  him,  where  to  turn  he  had  not 
the  slightest  idea.  Possibly  Dickens  might  suggest  some- 
thing. He  turned  over  the  pages,  and  his  eye  happened 
to  light  on  the  words,  "Americans  in  distress,  Society 
for  the  relief  of."  He  scanned  the  columns  closely,  there 
seemed  to  be  help  for  every  one  on  earth  except  a  Nor- 
wegian. There  was  a  horns  for  French  strangers  ;  a 
Hungarian  aid  society  ;  an  Italian  benevolent  ;  sixteen 
charities  for  Jews  ;  an  association  of  Poles  ;  a  Hibernian 
society ;  a  Netherlands  benevolent ;  a  Portuguese  and 
Spanish  aid  ;  and  a  society  for  distressed  Belgians.  The 
only  chance  for  him  lay  in  the  "Universal  Beneficence 
Society,"  a  title  which  called  up  a  bitter  smile  to  his  lips, 
or  the  "Society  of  Friends  of  Foreigners  in  distress." 

He  made  up  his  mind  to  leave  these  as  a  last  resource, 
and  turning  to  the  heading  of  Sweden  and  Norway, 
looked  out  the  address  of  the  Consulate.  He  must  go 
there  the  first  thing  the  next  day,  and  get  what  advice 
and  help  he  could.  There  was  also  in  Fleet  Street  a 
Scandinavian  club,  he  would  go  there  and  get  a  list  of  the 
members,  it  was  possible  that  he  might  meet  with  some 
familiar  name,  and  at  any  rate  he  should  hear  his  own 
language  spoken,  which  in  itself  would  be  a  relief.  This 
arranged,  he  tried  to  sleep,  but  with  little  success  ;  his 
brain  was  too  much  overwrought  with  the  terrible  rever- 
sals of  fortune  he  had  met  with  that  day,  with  the  sorrows 
that  had  come  to  him,  not  as 

"  Single  spies, 
But  in  battalions  I  " 

Whenever  he  did  for  a  few  minutes  sink  into  a  doze,  it 
was  only  to  be  haunted  by  the  most  horrible  dreams,  and 
when  morning  came  he  was  ill  and  feverish,  yet  as  deter- 


90  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

mined  as  before  to  go  through  with  the  programme  he 
had  marked  out. 

The  Swedish  Minister  received  him  very  kindly,  and 
listened  to  as  much  of  his  story  as  would  bear  telling  with 
great  patience.  "It  is  a  very  hard  case,"  he  said. 
"The  English  firm  perhaps  consulted  their  own  pockets 
in  making  this  new  arrangement,  but  to  break  off  an  old 
connection  so  suddenly,  and  as  it  chanced  at  such  a  try- 
ing moment,  was  hard  lines.  What  sort  of  people  are 
they,  these  Morgans  ?  You  have  met  them  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes"  said  Frithiof,  coloring.  "One  of  the 
brothers  was  in  Norway  this  summer,  came  to  our  house, 
dined  with  us,  professed  the  greatest  friendliness,  while  all 
the  time  he  must  have  known  what  the  firm  was  meditat- 
ing. " 

"Doubtless  came  to  see  how  the  land  lay,"  said  the 
minister.  "  And  what  of  the  other  brother  ? " 

"I  saw  him  yesterday,"  replied  Frithiof.  "  He  was 
very  civil ;  told  me  the  telegram  had  been  sent  off  that 
morning  about  the  affair,  as  it  would  not  bear  delay,  and 
spoke  very  highly  of  my  father.  Words  cost  nothing  you 
see." 

The  consul  noted  the  extreme  bitterness  of  the  tone, 
and  looked  searchingly  into  the  face  of  his  visitor. 
"Poor  fellow  !"  he  reflected;  "he  starts  in  life  with  a 
grievance,  and  there  is  nothing  so  bad  for  a  man  as  that. 
A  fine,  handsome  boy,  too.  If  he  stays  eating  his  heart 
out  in  London  he  will  go  to  the  dogs  in  no  time." 

"See,"  he  said,  "  these  Morgans,  though  they  may  be 
keen  business  men,  yet  they  are  after  all  human.  When 
they  learn  at  what  an  unlucky  time  their  telegram  ar- 
rived, it  is  but  natural  that  they  should  regret  it.  Their 
impulse  will  be  to  help  you.  I  should  advise  you  to  go 
to  them  at  once  and  talk  the  affair  over  with  them.  If 
they  have  any  proper  feeling  they  will  offer  you  some 
sort  of  employment  in  this  new  Stavanger  branch,  or  they 
might,  perhaps,  have  some  opening  for  you  in  their 
London  house." 

"  I  cannot  go  to  them,"  said  Frithiof,  in  a  choked  voice. 
"  I  would  rather  die  first." 

"I  can  understand,"  said  the  consul,  "that  you  feel 
very  bitter,  and  that  you  resent  the  way  in  which  they 
have  behaved.  But  still  I  think  you  should  try  to  get  over 
that.  After  all  they  knew  nothing  of  your  father's  affairs ; 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  $t 

they  did  not  intentionally  kill  him.     That  the  two  disasters 
followed  so  closely  on  each  other  was  but  an  accident." 

"Still  I  could  never  accept  anything  from  them  ;  it  is 
out  of  the  question,''  said  Frithiof. 

' '  Excuse  me  if  I  speak  plainly, "  said  the  consul.  "  You 
are  very  young,  and  you  know  but  little  of  the  world. 
If  you  allow  yourself  to  be  governed  by  pride  of  this  sort 
you  cannot  hope  to  get  on.  Now  turn  it  over  in  your 
mind,  and  if  you  do  not  feel  that  you  can  see  these  people, 
at  any  rate  write  to  them." 

"I  cannot  explain  it  all  to  you,  sir,"  said  Frithiof, 
"  but  there  are  private  reasons  which  make  that  alto- 
gether impossible." 

The  blood  had  mounted  to  his  forehead,  his  lips  had 
closed  in  a  straight  line ;  perhaps  it  was  because  they 
quivered  that  he  compressed  them  so. 

"A  woman  in  the  question,"  reflected  the  consul. 
"That  complicates  matters.  All  the  more  reason  that  he 
should  leave  London."  Then  aloud,  "  If  you  feel  unable 
to  apply  to  them,  I  should  recommend  you  strongly  to 
try  America.  Every  one  flocks  to  London  for  work,  but 
as  a  matter  of  fact  London  streets  just  now  are  not  paved 
with  gold ;  everything  is  at  a  standstill  ;  go  where  you 
will  you  will  hear  that  trade  is  bad,  that  employment  is 
scarce,  and  that  living  is  dear." 

"  If  I  could  hear  of  any  opening  in  America  I  would  go 
at  once, "  said  Frithiof.  "But  at  Bergen  .we  have  heard 
of  late  that  it  is  no  such  easy  thing,  even  over  there,  to 
meet  with  work.  I  will  not  pay  the  expenses  of  a  voyage 
merely  to  be  in  my  present  state,  and  hundreds  of  miles 
farther  from  home. " 

' '  What  can  you  do  ? "  asked  the  consul.  ' '  Is  your  Eng- 
lish pretty  good  ? " 

"  I  can  write  and  speak  it  easily.  And,  of  course,  Ger- 
man too.  I  understand  bookkeeping." 

"Any  taste  for  teaching ?  "  asked  the  consul. 

"  None,"  said  Frithiof,  decidedly. 

"Then  the  only  thing  that  seems  open  to  you  is  the 
work  of  a  secretary,  or  a  clerkship,  or  perhaps  you  could 
manage  translating,  but  that  is  not  easy  work  to  get. 
Everything  now  is  overcrowded,  so  dreadfully  overcrowd- 
ed. However,  of  course  I  shall  bear  you  in  mind,  and 
you  yourself  will  leave  no  stone  unturned.  Stay,  I  might 
give  you  a  letter  of  introduction  to  Herr  Sivertsen ;  hs 


92  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

might  possibly  find  you  temporary  work.  He  is  the 
author  of  that  well-known  book  on  Norway,  you  know. 
Do  you  know  your  way  about  yet  ? " 

"Pretty  well,"  said  Frithiof. 

"Then  there  is  his  address — Museum  Street.  You  had 
better  take  an  omnibus  at  the  Bank.  Any  of  the  Oxford 
Street  ones  will  put  you  down  at  the  corner,  by  Mudie's. 
Let  me  know  how  you  get  on  ;  I  shall  be  interested  to 
hear. " 

Then  with  a  kindly  shake  of  the  hand,  Frithiof  found 
himself  dismissed ;  and,  somewhat  cheered  by  the  inter- 
view, he  made  his  way  to  the  address  which  had  been 
given  him. 

Herr  Sivertsen's  rooms  were  of  the  gloomiest ;  they 
reeked  of  tobacco,  they  were  ill-lighted,  and  it  seemed  to 
Frithiof  that  the  window  could  not  have  been  opened  for 
a  week.  An  oblique  view  of  Mudie's  library  was  the  only 
object  of  interest  to  be  seen  without,  though  by  craning 
one's  neck,  one  could  get  just  a  glimpse  of  the  traffic  in 
Oxford  Street.  He  waited  for  some  minutes,  wondering 
to  himself  how  a  successful  author  could  tolerate  such  a 
den,  and  trying  to  imagine  from  the  room  what  sort  of 
being  was  the  inhabiter  thereof.  At  length  the  door 
opened,  and  a  gray-haired  man  of  five-and-fifty,  with  a 
huge  forehead  and  somewhat  stern,  square-jawed  face, 
entered. 

"I  have  read  the  consul's  letter,"  he  said  greeting 
Frithiof  and  motioning  him  to  a  chair.  "  You  want  what 
is  very  hard  to  get.  Are  you  aware  that  thousands  of 
men  are  seeking  employment  and  are  unable  to  meet 
with  it  ? " 

"  I  know  it  is  hard,"  said  Frithiof.  "  Still  I  have  more 
chance  here  than  in  Norway,  and  anyhow  I  mean  to  get 
it."  The  emphatic  way  in  which  he  uttered  these  last 
words  made  the  author  look  at  him  more  attentively. 

"I  am  tired  to  death  of  young  men  coming  to  me  and 
wanting  help,"  he  remarked,  frankly.  "  You  are  an  alto- 
gether degenerate  race,  you  young  men  of  this  genera- 
tion ;  in  my  opinion  you  don't  know  what  work  means. 
It's  money  that  you  want,  not  work." 

"Yes, "said  Frithiof,  dryly,  "you  are  perfectly  right. 
It  is  money  that  I  want." 

Now  Herr  Sivertsen  had  never  before  met  with  this 
honest  avowal.  In  reply  to  the  speech,  which  he  had 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  93 

made  to  many  other  applicants,  he  had  always  received 
an  eager  protestation  that  the  speaker  was  devoted  to 
work,  that  he  was  deeply  interested  in  languages,  that 
Herr  Sivertsen's  greatest  hobbies  were  his  hobbies  too. 
He  liked  this  bold  avowal  in  his  secret  heart,  though  he 
had  no  intention  of  letting  this  be  s'een.  "Just  what  I 
said  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "A  pleasure-seeking,  money-grub- 
bing generation.  What  is  the  result  ?  I  give  work  to  be 
done,  and  as  long  as  you  can  get  gold  you  don't  care  how 
the  thing  is  scamped.  Look  here  !  "  He  took  up  a  manu- 
script from  the  table.  "I  have  paid  the  fellow  who  did 
this.  He  is  not  only  behind  time,  but  when  at  last  the 
work  is  sent  in  it's  a  miserable  performance — bungled, 
patched,  scamped — even  the  handwriting  a  disgrace  to 
civilization.  It's  because  the  man  takes  no  pride  in  the 
work  itself,  because  he  has  not  a  spark  of  interest  in  his 
subject.  It  just  means  to  him  so  many  shillings  that 
is  all." 

"  I  can  at  least  write  a  clear  hand,"  said  Frithiof. 

"That  may  be  ;  but  will  you  put  any  heart  into  your 
work  ?  Do  you  care  for  culture  ?  for  literature  ?  Do  you 
interest  yourself  in  progress  ?  Do  you  desire  to  help  on 
your  generation  ? " 

"As  far  as  I  am  concerned,"  said  Frithiof,  bitterly, 
"the  generation  will  have  to  take  care  of  itself.  As  for 
literature,  I  know  little  of  it  and  care  less  ;  all  I  want  is 
to  make  money." 

"Did  I  not  tell  you  so?"  roared  Herr  Sivertsen.  "It 
is  the  accursed  gold  which  you  are  all  seeking  after.  You 
care  only  for  money  to  spend  on  your  own  selfish  indul- 
gences. You  are  all  alike !  All !  A  worthless  genera- 
tion !  " 

Frithiof  rose. 

"  However  worthless,  we  unluckily  have  to  live,"  he 
said  coldly.  "And  as  I  can't  pretend  to  be  interested  in 
'culture,'  I  must  waste  no  more  time  in  discussion." 

He  bowed  and  made  for  the  door. 

"Stay,"  said  Herr  Sivertsen;  "it  will  do  no  harm  if 
you  leave  me  your  address. " 

"Thank  you,  but  at  present  I  have  none  to  give,"  said 
Frithiof.  "  Good  morning." 

He  felt  very  angry  and  very  sore-hearted  as  he  made 
his  way  down  Museum  Street.  To  have  met  with  such  a 
rebuff  from  a  fellow-countryman  seemed  to  him  hard, 


94  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

specially  in  this  time  of  his  trouble.  He  had  not  enough 
insight  into  character  to  understand  the  eccentric  old 
author,  and  he  forgot  that  Herr  Sivertsen  knew  nothing  of 
his  circumstances.  He  was  too  abrupt,  too  independent, 
perhaps  also  too  refined  to  push  his  way  as  an  unknown 
foreigner  in  a  huge  metropolis.  He  was  utterly  unable 
to  draw  a  picturesque  description  of  the  plight  he  was  in, 
he  could  only  rely  on  a  sort  of  dogged  perseverance,  a 
fixed  resolve  that  he  must  and  would  find  work ;  and  in 
spite  of  constant  failures  this  never  left  him. 

He  tramped  down  to  Vauxhall  and  began  to  search  for 
lodgings,  looked  at  some  half-dozen  sets,  and  finally 
lighted  on  a  clean  little  house  in  a  new-looking  street  a  few 
hundred  yards  from  Vauxhall  station.  There  was  a  card  up 
in  the  window  advertising;  rooms  to  let.  He  rang  the  bell 
and  was  a  little  surprised  to  find  the  door  opened  to  him 
by  a  middle-aged  woman  who  was  unmistakably  a  lady, 
though  her  deeply-lined  face  told  of  privation  and  care, 
possibly  also  of  ill-temper.  He  asked  the  price  of  the 
rooms. 

"A  sitting-room  and  bedroom  at  fifteen  shillings  a 
week, "  was  the  reply. 

"It  is  too  much,  and  besides  I  only  need  one  room," 
he  said. 

"I  am  afraid  we  cannot  divide  them." 

He  looked  disappointed.  An  idea  seemed  to  strike  the 
landlady. 

"There  is  a  little  room  at  the  top  you  might  have,"  she 
said  ;  "  but  it  would  not  be  very  comfortable.  It  would 
be  only  five  shillings  a  week,  including  attendance." 

"Allow  me  to  see  it,"  said  Frithiof. 

He  felt  so  tired  and  ill  that  if  she  had  shown  him  a  pig- 
sty he  would  probably  have  taken  it  merely  for  the  sake 
of  settling  matters.  As  it  was,  the  room,  though  bare  and 
comfortless,  was  spotlessly  clean,  and,  spite  of  her  severe 
face,  he  rather  took  to  his  landlady. 

"  My  things  are  at  the  Arundel  Hotel,"  he  explained. 
"I  should  want  to  come  in  at  once.  Does  that  suit 
you  ? " 

"Oh,  yes,"  she  said,  scanning  him  closely.  "Can  you 
give  us  any  references  ? " 

"You  can,  if  you  wish,  refer  to  the  Swedish  Consul,  at 
24  Great  Winchester  Street." 

"  Oh,  you  are  a  Swede,"  she  said, 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  95 

"  No,  I  am  a  Norwegian,  and  have  only  been  in  London 
since  yesterday." 

The  landlady  seemed  satisfied,  and  having  paid  his  five 
shillings  in  advance  Frithiof  went  off  to  secure  his  port- 
manteau, and  by  five  o'clock  was  installed  in  his  new 
home. 

It  was  well  that  he  had  lost  no  time  in  leaving  his  hotel, 
for  during  the  next  two  days  he  was  unable  to  quit  his 
bed,  and  could  only  console  himself  with  the  reflection 
that  at  any  rate  he  had  a  cheap  roof  over  his  head  and 
that  his  rent  would  not  ruin  him. 

Perhaps  the  cold  night  air  from  the  river  had  given  him 
a  chill  on  the  previous  night,  or  perhaps  the  strain  of  the 
excitement  and  suffering  had  been  too  much  for  him.  At 
any  rate  he  lay  in  feverish  wretchedness,  tossing  through 
the  long  days  and  weary  nights,  a  misery  to  himself  and 
an  anxiety  to  the  people  of  the  house. 

He  discovered  that  his  first  impression  had  been  correct. 
Miss  Tumour,  the  landlady,  was  well-born  ;  she  and  her 
two  sisters — all  of  them  now  middle-aged  women — were 
the  daughters  of  a  country  gentleman,  who  had  either 
wasted  his  substance  in  speculation  or  on  the  turf.  He 
was  long  since  dead,  and  had  left  behind  him  the  fruits 
of  his  selfishness,  three  helpless  women,  with  no  partic- 
ular aptitudes  and  brought  up  to  no  particular  profession. 
They  had  sunk  down  and  down  in  the  social  scale,  till  it 
seemed  that  there  was  nothing  left  them  but  a  certain  re- 
finement of  taste,  which  only  enabled  them  to  suffer  more 
keenly,  and  the  family  pedigree,  of  which  they  were 
proud,  clinging  very  much  to  the  peculiar  spelling  of  their 
name,  and  struggling  on  in  their  little  London  house, 
quarreling  much  among  themselves,  and  yet  firmly  deter- 
mined that  nothing  on  earth  should  part  them.  Frithiof 
dubbed  them  the  three  Fates.  He  wondered  some- 
times whether,  after  long  years  of  poverty,  he  and 
Sigrid  and  Swanhild  should  come  to  the  same  miserable 
condition,  the  same  hopeless,  cold,  hard  spirit,  the 
same  pinched,  worn  faces,  the  same  dreary,  monotonous 
lives. 

The  three  Fates  did  not  take  much  notice  of  their  lodger. 
Miss  Tumour  often  wished  she  had  had  the  sense  to  see 
that  he  was  ill  before  admitting  him.  Miss  Caroline,  the 
youngest,  flatly  declined  waiting  on  him,  as  it  was  quite 
against  her  feelings  of  propriety.  Miss  Charlotte,  the 


96  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

middle  one  of  the  three,  who  had  more  heart  than  the  rest, 
tried  to  persuade  him  to  see  a  doctor. 

"No,"  he  replied,  "I  shall  be  all  right  in  a  day  or  two. 
It  is  nothing  but  a  feverish  attack.  I  can't  afford  doctor's 
bills." 

She  looked  at  him  a  little  compassionately,  his  poverty 
touched  a  chord  in  her  own  life. 

"Perhaps  the  illness  has  come  in  order  that  you  may 
have  time  to  think,"  she  said  timidly. 

She  was  a  very  small  little  woman,  like  a  white  mouse, 
but  Frithiof  had  speedily  found  that  she  was  the  only  one  of 
the  three  from  whom  he  could  expect  any  help.  She  was 
the  snubbed  one  of  the  family,  partly  because  she  was 
timid  and  gentle,  partly  because  she  had  lately  adopted 
certain  religious  views  upon  which  the  other  two  looked 
down  with  the  most  supreme  contempt. 

Frithiof  was  in  no  mood  to  respond  to  her  well-meant 
efforts  to  convert  him,  and  used  to  listen  to  her  discourses 
about  the  last  day  with  a  stolid  indifference  which  alto- 
gether baffled  her.  It  seemed  as  if  nothing  could  possibly 
rouse  him. 

"Ah,"  she  would  say,  as  she  left  the  room  with  a  sad 
little  shake  of  the  head,  "/  shall  be  caught  up  at  the 
second  Advent.  I'm  not  at  all  sure  thatjyo#  will  be." 

The  eldest  Miss  Tumour  did  not  trouble  herself  at  all 
about  his  spiritual  state  ;  she  thought  only  of  the  risk  they 
were  running  and  the  possible  loss  of  money. 

"  I  hope  he  is  not  sickening  with  any  infectious  dis- 
ease," she  used  to  remark  a  dozen  times  a  day. 

And  Miss  Charlotte  said  nothing,  but  silently  thanked 
Heaven  that  she  had  not  been  the  one  to  accept  the  new 
lodger. 


CHAPTER  XL 

THERE  is  no  suffering  so  severe  as  that  which  we  per- 
ceive to  be  the  outcome  of  our  own  mistaken  decision.  Suf- 
fering caused  by  our  own  sin  is  another  matter,  we  feel  in 
some  measure  that  we  deserve  it.  But  to  have  decided 
hastily,  or  too  hopefully,  or  while  some  false  view  of  the 
case  was  presented  to  us,  and  then  to  find  that  the  deci- 
sion brings  grievous  pain  and  sorrow,  this  is  cruelly  hard. 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  97 

It  was  this  consciousness  of  his  own  mistake  which 
preyed  upon  Frithiofs  mind  as  he  tossed  through  those 
long  solitary  hours.  Had  he  only  insisted  on  speaking  to 
Blanche's  uncle  at  Balholrn,  or  on  at  once  writing  to  her 
father,  all  might  have  been  well — his  father  yet  alive,  the 
bankruptcy  averted,  Blanche  his  own.  Over  and  over  in 
his  mind  he  revolved  the  things  that  might  have  happened 
but  for  that  fatal  hopefulness  which  had  proved  his  ruin. 
He  could  not  conceive  now  why  he  had  not  insisted  on 
returning  to  England  with  Blanche.  It  seemed  to  him 
incredible  that  he  had  stayed  in  Norway  merely  to  cele- 
brate his  twenty-first  birthday,  or  that  he  had  been  per- 
suaded not  to  return  with  the  Morgans  because  Mr. 
Morgan  would  be  out  of  town  till  October.  His  sanguine 
nature  had  betrayed  him,  just  as  his  father  had  been  be- 
trayed by  his  too  great  hopefulness  as  to  the  Iceland 
expedition.  Certainly  it  is  true  that  sanguine  people  in 
particular  have  to  buy  their  experience  by  bitter  pain  and 

By  the  Saturday  morning  he  was  almost  himself  again  as 
loss. 

far  as  physical  strength  was  concerned,  and  his  mind  was 
healthy  enough  to  turn  resolutely  away  from  these  useless 
breedings  over  the  past,  and  to  ask  with  a  certain  amount 
of  interest,  "What  is  to  be  done  next?  "  All  is  not  lost 
when  we  are  able  to  ask  ourselves  that  question,  the  mere 
asking  stimulates  us  to  rise  and  be  going,  even  though 
the  direction  we  shall  take  be  utterly  undecided. 

When  Miss  Charlotte  came  to  inquire  after  her  patient, 
she  found  to  her  surprise  that  he  was  up  and  dressed. 

"  What  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  You  are  really  well 
then  ? " 

"  Quite  well,  thank  you,"  he  replied,  in  the  rather  cold 
tone  of  voice  which  had  lately  become  habitual  to  him. 
"Have  you  a  newspaper  in  the  house  that  you  would  be 
so  good  as  to  lend  me  ?  " 

"Certainly,"  said  Miss  Charlotte,  her  face  lighting  up 
as  she  hastened  out  of  the  room,  returning  in  a  minute 
with  the  special  organ  of  the  religious  party  to  which  she 
belonged.  "I  think  this  might  interest  you,"  she  began 
timidly. 

"  I  don't  want  to  be  interested,"  said  Frithiof  dryly. 
"All  I  want  is  to  look  through  the  advertisements.  A 
thousand  thanks,  but  I  see  this  paper  is  not  quite  what  I 
need." 


98  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

"Are  you  sure  that  you  know  what  you  really  need?" 
she  said  earnestly,  and  with  evident  reference  to  a  deeper 
subject. 

Had  she  not  been  such  a  genuine  little  woman,  he 
would  have  spoken  the  dry  retort,  "  Madam,  I  need 
money,"  which  trembled  on  his  lips  ;  but  there  was  no 
suspicion  of  cant  about  her,  and  he  in  spite  of  his  bitter- 
ness still  retained  much  of  his  Norwegian  courtesy. 

"  You  see,"  he  said,  smiling  a  little,  "  if  I  do  not  find 
work  I  cannot  pay  my  rent,  so  I  must  lose  no  time  in  get- 
ting some  situation." 

The  word  "rent"  recalled  her  eldest  sister  to  Miss 
Charlotte's  mind,  and  she  resolved  to  say  no  more  just  at 
present  as  to  the  other  matters.  She  brought  him  one  of 
the  daily  papers,  and  with  a  little  sigh  of  disappointment 
removed  the  religious  "weekly, "  leaving  Frithiof  to  his 
depressing  study  of  the  column  headed  "Situations 
vacant. " 

Alas  !  how  short  it  was  compared  to  the  one  dedicated 
to  "Situations  wanted." 

There  was  an  editor-reporter  needed,  who  must  be  a 
"  first  class  all-round  man";  but  Frithiof  could  not  feel 
that  he  was  deserving  of  such  epithets,  and  he  could  not 
even  write  shorthand.  There  was  a  "gentleman  needed 
for  the  canvassing  and  publishing  department  of  a  weekly,'' 
but  he  must  be  possessed  not  only  of  energy  but  of  exper- 
ience. Agents  were  needed  for  steel  pens,  toilet  soap  and 
boys'  clothes,  but  no  novices  need  apply.  Even  the  ad- 
vertisement for  billiard  hands  was  qualified  by  the  two 
crushing  words,  "  experienced  only." 

"A  correspondence  clerk  wanted, "  made  him  look  hope- 
fully at  the  lines  which  followed,  but  unluckily  a  knowl- 
edge of  Portuguese  was  demanded  as  well  as  of  French 
and  German  ;  while  the  corn  merchant  who  would  receive 
a  gentleman's  son  in  an  office  of  good  position  was  pru- 
dent enough  to  add  the  words,  "No  one  need  apply  who 
is  unable  to  pay  substantial  premium." 

Out  of  the  whole  list  there  were  only  two  situations  for 
which  he  could  even  inquire,  and  he  soon  found  that  for 
each  of  these  there  were  hundreds  of  applicants.  At  first 
his  natural  hopefulness  reasserted  itself,  and  each  morning 
he  would  set  out  briskly  resolving  to  leave  no  stone  un- 
turned, but  when  days  and  weeks  had  passed  by  in  the 
monotonous  search,  his  heart  began  to  fail  him  ;  he  used 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  99 

to  start  from  the  little  back  street  in  Vauxhall  doggedly, 
dull  despair  eating  at  his  heart,  and  a  sickening  ever-pres- 
ent consciousness  that  he  was  only  an  insignificant  unit 
struggling  to  find  standing  room  in  a  world  where  selfish- 
ness and  money-grubbing  reigned  supreme. 

Each  week  brought  him  of  course  letters  from  Norway, 
his  uncle  sent  him  letters  of  introduction  to  various  Lon- 
don firms,  but  each  letter  brought  him  only  fresh  disap- 
pointment. As  the  consul  had  told  him,  the  market  was 
already  overcrowded,  and  though  very  possibly  he  might 
have  met  with  work  in  the  previous  summer  when  all  was 
well  with  him,  no  one  seemed  inclined  to  befriend  this 
son  of  a  bankrupt,  with  his  bitter  tone  and  proud  bearing  ; 
the  impression  he  gave  every  one  was  that  he  was  an 
Ishmaelite  with  his  hand  against  every  man,  and  it  cer- 
tainly did  seem  that  at  present  every  man's  hand  was 
against  him. 

People  write  so  much  about  the  dangers  of  success  and 
prosperity,  and  the  hardening  effects  of  wealth,  that  they 
sometimes  forget  the  other  side  of  the  picture.  Failure  is 
always  supposed  to  make  a  man  patient  and  humble  and 
good  ;  it  rarely  does  so,  unless  to  begin  with,  his  spirit 
has  been  wakened  from  sleep.  The  man  whose  faith  has 
been  a  mere  conventionality,  or  the  man  who  like  Frithiof 
has  professed  tc  Believe  in  life,  becomes  inevitably  bitter 
and  hard  when  all  things  are  against  him.  It  is  just  then 
when  a  man  is  hard  and  bitter,  just  then  when  everything 
else  has  failed  him,  that  the  devil  comes  to  the  fore,  offer- 
ing pleasures  which  in  happier  times  would  have  had  no 
attraction. 

At  first  certain  aspects  of  London  life  had  startled  Frit- 
hiof ;  but  he  speedily  became  accustomed  to  them  ;  if  he 
thought  of  them  at  all  it  was  with  indifference  rather  than 
disgust.  One  day,  however,  he  passed  with  seeming 
abruptness  into  a  new  state  of  mind.  Sick  with  disap- 
pointment after  the  failure  of  a  rather  promising  scheme 
suggested  to  him  by  one  of  the  men  to  whom  his  uncle 
had  written,  he  walked  through  the  crowded  streets  too 
hopeless  and  wretched  even  to  notice  the  direction  he  had 
taken,  and  with  a  miserable  perception  that  his  last  good 
card  was  played,  and  that  all  hope  of  success  was  over. 
His  future  was  an  absolute  blank,  his  present  a  keen  dis- 
tress, his  past  too  bright  in  contrast  to  bear  thinking  of. 

After  all  had  he  not  been  a  fool  to  struggle  so  long 


100  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

against  his  fate  ?  Clearly  every  one  was  against  him. 
He  would  fight  no  longer ;  he  would  give  up  that  notion 
— that  high-flown,  unpractical  notion  of  paying  off  his 
father's  debts.  To  gain  an  honest  living  was  apparently 
impossible,  the  world  afforded  him  no  facilities  for  that, 
but  it  afforded  him  countless  opportunities  of  leading  an- 
other sort  of  life.  Why  should  he  not  take  what  he  could 
get  ?  Life  was  miserable  and  worthless  enough,  but  at 
least  he  might  put  an  end  to  the  hideous  monotony  of  the 
search  after  work,  at  least  he  might  plunge  into  a  phase 
of  life  which  would  have  at  any  rate  the  charm  of  novelty. 
It  was  one  of  those  autumn  days  when  shadow  and  sun 
alternate  quickly  ;  a  gleam  of  sunshine  now  flooded  the 
street  with  brightness.  It  seemed  to  him  that  a  gleam  of 
light  had  also  broken  the  dreariness  of  his  life.  Possibly 
it  might  be  a  fleeting  pleasure,  but  why  should  he  not 
seize  upon  it  ?  His  nature,  however,  was  not  one  to  be 
hurried  thoughtlessly  into  vice.  If  he  sinned  he  would 
do  so  deliberately.  He  looked  the  two  lives  fairly  in  the 
face  now,  and  in  his  heart  he  knew  which  attracted  him 
most.  The  discovery  startled  him.  "  The  pleasing  veil 
which  serves  to  hide  self  from  itself"  was  suddenly  torn 
down,  and  he  was  seized  with  the  sort  of  terror  which  we 
most  of  us  have  experienced. 

"  As  that  bright  moment's  unexpected  glare 
Shows  us  the  best  and  worst  of  what  we  are." 

"Why  not?  why  not?"  urged  the  tempter.  And  the 
vague  shrinking  seemed  to  grow  less  ;  nothing  in  heaven 
or  earth  seemed  real  to  him ;  he  felt  that  nothing 
mattered  a  straw.  As  well  that  way  as  any  other.  WThy 
not? 

It  was  the  critical  moment  of  his  life;  just  as  in  old 
pictures  one  sees  an  angel  and  a  devil  struggling  hard  to 
turn  the  balance,  so  now  it  seemed  that  his  fate  rested 
with  the  first  influence  he  happened  to  come  across. 

Why  should  he  not  say,  "  Evil,  be  thou  my  good"  once 
and  for  all,  and  have  done  with  a  fruitless  struggle  ?  That 
was  the  thought  which  seethed  in  his  mind  as  he  slowly 
made  his  way  along  the  Strand,  surely  the  least  likely  street 
in  London  where  one  might  expect  that  the  good  angel 
would  find  a  chance  of  turning  the  scale.  The  pushing 
crowd  annoyed  him  ;  he  paused  for  a  minute,  adding  an- 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  \ o i 

other  unit  to  the  little  cluster  rA  men  which  may  always 
be  seen  before  the  window  of  a  London  picture-dealer. 
He  stopped  less  to  look  at  the  pictures  than  for  the  sake 
of  being  still,  and  out  of  the  hurrying  tide.  His  eye  wan- 
dered from  landscape  to  landscape  with  very  faint  inter- 
est, until  suddenly  he  caught  sight  of  a  familiar  view, 
which  stirred  his  heart  strangely.  It  was  a  picture  of  the 
RomsdalshoTn  ;  he  knew  it  in  an  instant,  with  its  strange 
and  beautiful  outline,  rising  straight  and  sheer  up  into  a 
wintry  blue  sky.  A  thousand  recollections  came  throng- 
ing back  upon  him,  all  the  details  of  a  holiday  month 
spent  in  that  very  neighborhood,  with  his  father  and  Sigrid 
and  Swanhild.  He  tried  to  drag  himself  away,  but  he 
could  not.  Sigrid's  face  kept  rising  before  him  as  if  in 
protest  against  that  "Why  not?"  which  still  claimed  a 
hearing  within  him." 

"If  she  were  here,"  he  thought  to  himself,  "I  might 
keep  straight.  But  that's  all  over  now,  and  I  can't  bear 
this  life  any  longer.  I  have  tried  everything  and  have 
failed.  And,  after  all,  who  cares  ?  It's  the  way  of  the 
world.  I  shan't  be  worse  than  thousands  of  others." 

Still  the  thought  of  Sigrid  held  him  in  check,  the  re- 
membrance of  her  clear  blue  eyes  seemed  to  force  him  to 
go  deeper  down  beneath  the  surface  of  the  sullen  anger 
and  disappointment  which  were  goading  him  on  to  an 
evil  life.  Was  it  after  all  quite  true?  Had  he  really 
tried  everything  ? 

Two  or  three  times  during  his  wanderings  he  had  thought 
of  Roy  Boniface,  and  had  wondered  whether  he  should 
seek  him  out  again  ;  but  in  his  trouble  he  had  shrunk 
from  going  to  comparative  strangers,  and,  as  far  as  busi- 
ness went,  it  was  scarcely  likely  that  Roy  could  help  him. 
Besides,  of  the  rest  of  the  family  he  knew  nothing  ;  for 
aught  he  knew  the  father  might  be  a  vulgar,  purse-proud 
tradesman — the  last  sort  of  man  to  whom  he  could  allow 
himself  to  be  under  any  obligation. 

Again  came  the  horrible  temptation,  again  that  sort  of 
terror  of  his  own  nature.  He  turned  once  more  to  the 
picture  of  the  Romsdalshorn  ;  it  seemed  to  be  the  one  thing 
which  could  witness  to  him  of  truth  and  beauty  and  a  life 
above  the  level  of  the  beasts. 

Very  slowly  and  gradually  he  began  to  see  things  as  they 
really  were  ;  he  saw  that  if  he  yielded  to  this  temptation 
he  could  never  again  face  Sigrid  with  a  clear  conscience. 


io2  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

He  saw,  too,  that  his  only  safeguard  lay  in  something 
which  would  take  him  out  of  himself.  "I  zw'//get  work,'' 
he  said  almost  fiercely.  "For  Sigrid's  sake  I'll  have  one 
more  try." 

And  then  all  at  once  the  evil  imaginings  faded,  and 
there  rose  up  instead  of  them  a  picture  of  what  might  be 
in  the  future,  of  a  home  he  might  make  for  Sigrid  and 
Swanhild  here  in  London,  where  he  now  roamed  about  so 
wretchedly,  of  a  life  which  should  in  every  way  be  a  con- 
trast to  his  present  misery.  But  he  felt,  as  thousands 
have  felt  before  him,  that  he  was  handicapped  in  the 
struggle  by  his  loneliness,  and  perhaps  it  was  this  con- 
sciousness more  than  any  expectation  of  finding  work 
which  made  him  swallow  his  pride  and  turn  his  steps 
toward  Brixton. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

BY  the  time  he  reached  Brixton  it  was  quite  dusk.  Roy 
had  never  actually  given  him  his  address  ;  but  he  made 
inquiries  at  a  shop  in  the  neighborhood,  was  offered  the 
loan  of  a  directory,  and  having  found  what  he  needed 
was  soon  making  his  way  up  the  well-swept  carriage-drive 
which  led  to  Rowan  Tree  House.  He  was  tired  with  the 
walk  and  with  his  lonely  day  of  wasted  work  and  disap- 
pointment. When  he  saw  the  outlines  ofthe  big  substan- 
tial house  looming  out  of  the  twilight  he  began  to  wish 
that  he  had  never  come,  for  he  thought  to  himself  that  it 
would  be  within  just  such  another  house  as  the  Morgans, 
with  its  hateful  air  of  money,  like  the  house  of  Miss  Kil- 
mansegg  in  the  poem — 

"  Gold,  and  gold,  and  everywhere  gold." 

To  his  surprise  the  door  was  suddenly  flung  open  as  he 
approached,  and  a  little  boy  in  a  velvet  tunic  came  danc- 
ing out  on  to  the  steps  to  meet  him. 

"Roy  !  Roy  !  "  shouted  the  little  fellow  merrily,  "  I've 
come  to  meet  you  !  "  Then  speedily  discovering  his  mis- 
take he  darted  back  into  the  doorway,  hiding  his  face  in 
Cecil's  skirt. 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  \ 03 

She  stood  there  with  a  little  curly-headed  child  in  her 
arms,  and  her  soft  gray  eyes  and  the  deep  blue  baby  eyes 
looked  searching  out  into  the  semi-darkness.  Frithiof 
thought  the  little  group  looked  like  a  picture  of  the  Holy 
Family.  Somehow  he  no  longer  dreaded  the  inside  of  the 
house.  For  the  first  time  for  weeks  he  felt  the  sort  of  rest 
which  is  akin  to  happiness  as  Cecil  recognized  him,  and 
came  forward  with  a  pretty  eagerness  of  manner  to  greet 
him,  too  much  astonished  at  his  sudden  appearance  for 
any  thought  of  shyness  to  intervene. 

"We  thought  you  must  have  gone  back  to  Norway," 
she  exclaimed.  "  I  am  so  glad  you  have  come  to  see  us. 
The  children  thought  it  was  Roy  who  opened  the  gate. 
He  will  be  home  directly.  He  will  be  so  glad  to  see  you. " 

"I  should  have  called  before,"  said  Frithiof,  "but  my 
days  have  been  very  full,  and  then,  too,  I  was  not  quite 
sure  of  your  address." 

He  followed  her  into  the  brightly  lighted  hall,  and  with  a 
sort  of  satisfaction  shut  out  the  damp  November  twilight. 

"  We  have  so  often  spoken  of  you  and  your  sisters," 
said  Cecil,  "  but  when  Roy  called  at  the  Arundel  and 
found  that  you  had  left  without  giving  any  address,  we 
thought  you  must  have  gone  back  to  Bergen." 

"Did  he  call  on  me  again  there?"  said  Frithiof.  "I 
remember  now  he  promised  that  he  would  come,  I  ought 
to  have  thought  of  it ;  but  somehow  all  was  confusion 
that  night,  and  afterward  I  was  too  ill." 

"It  must  have  been  terrible  for  you  all  alone  among 
strangers  in  a  foreign  country, "said  Cecil,  the  ready  tears 
starting  to  her  eyes.  "  Come  in  and  see  my  mother,  she 
has  often  heard  how  good  you  all  were  to  us  in  Norway." 

She  opened  a  door  on  the  left  of  the  entrance-hall  and 
took  him  into  one  of  the  prettiest  rooms  he  had  ever  seen  ; 
the  soft  crimson  carpet,  the  inlaid  rosewood  furniture,  the 
book-shelves  with  their  rows  of  well-bound  books,  all 
seemed  to  belong  to  each  other,  and  a  delightfully  home- 
like feeling  came  over  him  as  he  sat  by  the  fire,  answer- 
ing Mrs.  Boniface's  friendly  inquiries  ;  he  could  almost 
have  fancied  himself  once  more  in  his  father's  study  at 
Bergen — the  room  where  so  many  of  their  long  winter 
evenings  had  been  passed. 

They  sat  there  talking  for  a  good  half-hour  before  Roy 
and  his  father  returned,  but  to  Frithiof  the  time  seemed 
short  enough.  He  scarcely  knew  what  it  was  that  had 


104  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

such  a  charm  for  him  ;  their  talk  was  not  particularly 
brilliant,  and  yet  it  somehow  interested  him. 

Mrs.  Boniface  was  one  of  those  very  natural,  homely 
people  whose  commonplace  remarks  have  a  sort  of  flavor 
of  their  own,  and  Cecil  had  something  of  the  same  gift. 
She  never  tried  to  make  an  impression,  but  went  on  her 
way  so  quietly,  that  it  was  often  not  until  she  was  gone 
that  people  realized  what  she  had  been  to  them.  Per- 
haps what  really  chased  away  Frithiof  s  gloom,  and  ban- 
ished the  look  of  the  Ishmaelite  from  his  face,  was  the 
perception  that  these  people  really  cared  for  him,  that 
their  kindness  was  no  labored  formality  but  a  genuine 
thing.  Tossed  about  for  so  long  among  hardheaded 
money-makers,  f  reed  every  day  to  confront  glaring  con- 
trasts of  poverty  and  wealth,  familiarized  with  the  sight  of 
every  kind  of  evil,  Jt  was  this  sort  of  thing,  that  he  needed. 

And  surely  it  is  strange  that  in  these  days  when  people 
are  willing  to  devote  so  much  time  and  trouble  to  good 
works,  so  few  are  willing  to  make  their  own  homes  the 
havens  of  refuge  they  might  be.  A  home  is  apt  to  become 
either  a  mere  place  of  general  entertainment,  or  else  a 
selfishly  guarded  spot  where  we  may  take  our  ease  with- 
out a  thought  of  those  who  are  alone  in  the  world.  Many 
will  ask  a  man  in  Frithiof's  position  to  an  "  at  home  "  or  a 
dance,  but  very  few  care  to  take  such  a  one  into  their 
real  home  and  make  him  one  of  themselves.  They  will 
talk  sadly  about  the  temptations  of  town  life,  but  they 
will  not  in  this  matter  stir  an  inch  to  counteract  them. 

Mrs.  Boniface's  natural  hospitality  and  goodness  of 
heart  fitted  her  admirably  for  this  particular  form  of  kind- 
ness :  moreover,  she  knew  that  her  daughter  would  prove 
a  help  and  not  a  hindrance,  for  she  could  in  all  things  trust 
Cecil,  who  was  the  sort  of  girl  who  can  be  friends  with  men 
without  flirting  with  them.  At  last  the  front  door  opened 
and  footsteps  sounded  in  the  hall,  little  Lance  ran  out  to 
greet  Mr.  Boniface  and  Roy,  and  Frithiof  felt  a  sudden 
shame  as  he  remembered  the  purse-proud  tradesman  that 
foolish  prejudice  had  conjured  up  in  his  brain — a  being 
wholly  unlike  the  kindly,  pleasant-looking  man  who  now 
shook  hands  with  him,  seeming  in  a  moment  to  know 
who  he  was  and  all  about  him. 

''And  so  you  have  been  in  London  all  this  time  !  "  ex- 
claimed Roy.  "  Whereabouts  are  you  staying  ? " 

"  Close  to  Vauxhall  station,"  replied  Frithiof.     "Two 


A  HARD  Y  NORSEMAN.  105 

or  three  times  I  thought  of  looking  you  up,  but  there  was 
always  so  much  to  do." 

"You  have  found  work  here,  then  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed  ;  I  wish  I  had.  It  seems  to  me  one  may 
starve  in  this  place  before  finding  anything  to  do." 

"Gwen  wishes  to  say  good-night  to  you,  Herr  Falck," 
said  Cecil,  leading  the  little  girl  up  to  him  ;  and  the  bitter 
look  died  out  of  Frithiofs  face  for  a  minute  as  he  stooped  to 
kiss  the  baby  mouth  that  was  temptingly  offered  to  him. 

"  It  will  be  hard  if  in  all  London  we  cannot  find  you 
something,"  said  Mr.  Boniface.  "What  sort  of  work  do 
you  want  ? " 

' '  I  would  do  anything, "  s  aid  Frithiof.  ' '  Sweep  a  cross- 
ing if  necessary." 

They  all  laughed. 

"Many  people  say  that  vaguely,"  said  Mr.  Boniface. 
"But  when  one  comes  to  practical  details  they  draw 
back.  The  mud  and  the  broom  look  all  very  well  in  the 
distance,  you  see. "  Then  as  a  bell  was  rung  in  the  hall — 
"Let  us  have  tea  first,  and  afterward,  if  you  will  come 
into  my  study  we  will  talk  the  matter  over.  We  are  old- 
fashioned  people  in  this  house  and  keep  to  the  old  custom 
of  tea  and  supper.  I  don't  know  how  you  manage  such 
things  in  Norway,  but  to  my  mind  it  seems  that  the  mid- 
dle of  the  day  is  the  time  for  the  square  meal,  as  they  say 
in  America. " 

If  the  meal  that  awaited  them  in  the  dining-room  was 
not  "  square,"  it  was,  at  any  rate,  very  tempting  ;  from 
the  fine  damask  tablecloth  to  the  silver  gypsy  kettle — from 
the  delicately  arranged  chrysanthemums  to  the  Crown 
Derby  cups  and  saucers — all  bespoke  good  taste  and  the 
personal  supervision  of  one  who  really  cared  for  beauty 
and  order.  The  very  food  looked  unlike  ordinary  food, 
the  horse-shoes  of  fancy  bread,  the  butter-swan  in  its 
parsley  bordered  lake,  the  honey-comb,  the  cakes  hot  and 
cold,  and  the  beautiful  bunches  of  grapes  from  the  green- 
house, all  seemed  to  have  a  sort  of  character  of  their  own. 
For  the  first  time  for  weeks  Frithiof  felt  hungry.  No  more 
was  said  of  the  unappetizing  subject  of  the  dearth  of  work, 
nor  did  they  speak  much  of  their  Norwegian  recollections, 
because  they  knew  it  would  be  a  sore  subject  with  him 
just  now. 

"  By  the  way,  Cecil,"  remarked  Mr.  Boniface,  when  pres- 
ently a  pause  came  in  the  general  talk,  "  I  saw  one  of  your 


io6  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN: 

heroes  this  morning.  Do  you  go  in  for  hero  worship  in 
Norway,  Herr  Falck  ?  My  daughter  here  is  a  pupil  after 
Carlyle's  own  heart." 

"We,  at  any  rate,  read  Carlyle,"  said  Frithiof. 

"  But  who  can  it  have  been  !  "  exclaimed  Cecil.  "Not 
Signer  Donati  ?  " 

"  The  very  same,"  said  Mr.  Boniface. 

"  I  thought  he  was  singing  at  Paris  ?  " 

"  So  he  is  ;  he  only  ran  over  for  a  day  or  two  on  busi- 
ness, and  he  happened  to  look  in  this  morning  with 
Sardoni,  who  came  to  arrange  about  a  song  of  his  which 
we  are  going  to  publish." 

"  Sardoni  seems  to  me  the  last  sort  of  man  one  would 
expect  to  write  songs, "  said  Roy. 

"But  in  spite  of  it  he  has  written  a  very  taking  one," 
said  Mr.  Boniface,  "  and  I  am  much  mistaken  if  it  does 
not  make  a  great  hit.  If  so,  his  fortune  is  made,  for  you 
see  he  can  write  tenor  songs  for  himself  and  contralto 
songs  for  his  wife,  and  they'll  get  double  royalties  that 
way." 

"But  about  Signer  Donati,  father,  what  did  he  say  ? 
What  is  he  like  ?  " 

"Well,  he  is  so  unassuming  and  quiet  that  you  would 
never  think  it  possible  he's  the  man  every  one  is  raving 
about.  And,  except  for  that,  he's  really  very  much  like 
other  people  ;  talked  business  very  sensibly,  and  seemed 
as  much  interested  about  this  song  of  Sardoni's  as  if  there 
had  never  been  anything  out  of  the  way  in  his  own  life 
at  all.  I  took  to  him  very  much." 

"  Can't  you  get  him  to  sing  next  summer  ?" 

"  I  tried,  but  it  is  out  of  the  question.  He  has  signed 
an  agreement  only  to  sing  for  Carrington.  But  he  has 
promised  me  to  sing  at  one  of  our  concerts  the  year  after 
next." 

"  Fancy  having  to  make  one's  arrangements  so  long  be- 
forehand !"  exclaimed  Cecil  "You  must  certainly  hear 
him,  Herr  Falck,  when  you  have  a  chance  ;  they  say  he 
is  the  finest  baritone  in  Europe. " 

"  He  made  us  all  laugh  this  morning,"  said  Mr.  Boni- 
face. "I  forget  now  what  started  it,  something  in  the 
words  of  the  song  I  fancy,  but  he  began  to  tell  us  how 
yesterday  he  had  been  down  at  some  country  place  with 
a  friend  of  his,  and  as  they  were  walking  through  the 
grounds  they  met  a  most  comical  old  fellow  in  a  tall  hat." 


A  tfARDY  NORSEMAN.  107 

"  'Hullo,'  exclaimed  his  friend,  'here's  old  Sykes  the 
mole-catcher,  and  I  do  declare,  he's  got  another  beaver  ! 
Where  on  earth  does  he  get  them  ! ' 

"'In  England,'  said  Donati  to  his  friend,  'it  would 
hardly  do  to  inquire  after  his  hatter,  I  suppose.' 

"At  which  the  other  laughed  of  course,  and  they  agreed 
together  that  just  for  a  joke  they  would  find  out.  So  they 
began  to  talk  to  the  old  man,  and  presently  the  friend  re- 
marked : 

"  'I  say,  Sykes,  my  good  fellow,  I  wish  you'd  tell  me 
how  you  manage  to  get  such  a  succession  of  hats.  Why, 
you  are  rigged  out  quite  fresh  since  I  saw  you  on  Monday.' 

"The  old  mole-catcher  gave  a  knowing  wink,  and  after 
a  little  humming  and  hawing,  he  said  : 

"  '  Well,  sir,  yer  see  I  changed  clothes  yesterday  with 
a  gentleman  in  the  middle  of  a  field.' 

"  '  Changed  clothes  with  a  gentleman  !'  they  exclaimed. 
'  What  do  you  mean  ?  ' 

"  And  the  mole-catcher  began  to  laugh  outright,  and 
leading  them  to  a  gap  in  the  hedge,  pointed  away  into 
the  distance. 

"  'There  he  be,  sir  ;  there  he  be,'  he  said,  laughing  till 
he  almost  choked.  '  It  be  naught  but  a  scarecrow  ;  but  the 
scarecrows  they've  kep'  me  in  clothes  for  many  a  year.'" 

Frithiof  broke  out  into  a  ringing  boyish  laugh  ;  it  was 
the  first  time  he  had  laughed  for  weeks.  Cecil  guessed  as 
much,  and  blessed  Signor  Donati  for  having  been  the 
cause  ;  but,  as  she  remembered  what  the  young  Nor- 
wegian had  been  only  a  few  months  before,  she  could 
not  help  feeling  sad — could  not  help  wondering  that 
sorrow  should  have  changed  him  so  terribly.  Had 
Blanche  Morgan  been  faithful  to  him,  she  wondered  ?  Or 
had  his  change  of  fortune  put  an  end  to  everything  be- 
tween them  ?  In  any  case  he  must  greatly  resent  the  way 
in  which  his  father  had  been  treated  by  the  English  firm, 
and  that  alone  must  make  matters  very  difficult  for  the 
two  lovers. 

Musing  over  it  all  she  became  silent  and  abstracted, 
and  on  returning  to  the  drawing-room  took  up  a  news- 
paper, glancing  aimlessly  down  the  columns,  and  wonder- 
ing what  her  father  and  Roy  would  advise  Frithiof  to  do, 
and  how  the  discussion  in  the  study  was  prospering. 

All  at  once  her  heart  began  to  beat  wildly,  for  she  had 
caught  sight  of  three  lines  which  threw  a  startling  light 


1 08  A  HARD  Y  NORSEMAN: 

on  Frithiofs  changed  manner,  three  lines  which  also  re- 
vealed to  her  the  innermost  recesses  of  her  own  heart. 

"The  marriage  arranged  between  Lord  Romiaux  and 
Miss  Blanche  Morgan,  only  daughter  of  Austin  Morgan, 
Esq.,  will  take  place  on  the  joth  instant,  at  Christ 
Church,  Lancaster  Gate." 

She  was  half  frightened  at  the  sudden  rage  which  took 
possession  of  her — at  the  bitterness  of  the  indignation 
which  burned  in  her  heart.  What  right  had  Blanche 
Morgan  to  play  with  men  ?  to  degrade  love  to  a  mere 
pastime  ?  to  make  the  most  sacred  thing  in  the  world  the 
sport  of  a  summer  holiday  ?  to  ruin  men's  lives  for  her 
own  amusement?  to  lure  on  a  mere  boy  and  flatter  and 
deceive  him  ;  then  quietly  to  throw  him  over  ? 

"And  how  about  yourself?  "  said  a  voice  in  her  heart. 
"Are  you  quite  free  from  what  you  blame  in  Blanche 
Morgan  ?  Will  you  not  be  tempted  to  hope  that  he  may 
like  you  ?  Will  you  not  try  to  please  him  ?  Will  it  not 
be  a  pleasure  to  you  if  he  cares  for  your  singing  ?  ' 

"All  that  is  quite  true,"  she  admitted.  "I  do  care  to 
please  him  ;  I  can't  help  it ;  but,  O  God  !  let  me  die  rather 
than  do  him  harm  ! " 

Her  quiet  life  with  the  vague  feeling  of  something  want- 
ing in  it  had  indeed  been  changed  by  the  Norwegian  holi- 
day. Now,  for  the  first  time,  she  realized  that  her  un- 
eventful girlhood  was  over ;  she  had  become  a  woman, 
and  womanlike,  she  bravely  accepted  the  pain  which  love 
had  brought  into  her  life,  and  looked  sadly,  perhaps,  yet 
unshrinkingly  into  the  future,  where,  it  was  little  likely 
that  anything  but  grief  and  anxiety  awaited  her.  For  she 
loved  a  man  who  was  absolutely  indifferent  to  her,  and 
her  love  had  given  her  clear  insight.  She  saw  that  he  was 
a  man  whose  faith  in  love,  both  human  and  divine,  had 
been  crushed  out  of  him  by  a  great  wrong  ;  a  man  whose 
whole  nature  had  deteriorated  and  would  continue  to  de- 
teriorate, unless  some  unforeseen  thing  should  interfere  to 
change  his  whole  view  of  life. 

But  the  scalding  tears  which  rose  to  her  eyes  were  not 
tears  of  self-pity  ;  they  were  tears  of  sorrow  for  Frithiof, 
of  disappointment  about  his  ruined  life,  of  a  sad  humility 
as  she  thought  to  herself,  "Oh  !  if  only  I  were  fit  to  help 
him  !  If  only  !  " 

Meanwhile  in  the  study  a  very  matter-of-fact  conversa- 
tion was  being  held. 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  109 

"What  I  want  to  find  out,"  said  Mr.  Boniface,  "is 
whether  you  are  really  in  earnest  in  what  you  say  about 
work.  There  are  thousands  of  young  men  saying  exactly 
the  same  thing,  but  when  you  take  the  trouble  to  go  into 
their  complaint  you  find  that  the  real  cry  is  not  '  Give  me 
work  by  which  I  can  get  an  honest  living  ! '  but  '  Give  me 
work  that  does  not  clash  with  my  tastes — work  that  I 
thoroughly  like. 

"I  have  no  particular  tastes,"  said  Frithiof,  coldly. 
"  The  sort  of  work  is  quite  indifferent  to  me  as  long  as  it 
will  bring  in  money." 

"You  are  really  willing  to  begin  at  the  bottom  of  the 
ladder  and  work  your  way  up  ?  You  are  not  above  tak- 
ing a  step  which  would  place  you  much  lower  in  the 
social  scale." 

"  A  fellow  living  on  the  charity  of  a  relation  who 
grudges  every  farthing,  as  taking  something  away  from  his 
own  children,  is  not  likely  to  trouble  much  about  the  social 
scale,"  said  Frithiof,  bitterly. 

"Very  well.  Then  I  will,  at  any  rate,  suggest  my  plan 
for  you,  and  see  what  you  think  of  it.  If  you  care  to 
accept  it  until  something  better  turns  up,  I  can  give  you 
a  situation  in  my  house  of  business.  Your  salary  to 
begin  with  would  be  but  small ;  the  man  who  leaves  me 
next  Monday  has  had  only  five-and-twenty  shillings  a 
week,  and  I  could  not  without  unfair  favoritism  give  you 
more  at  first.  But  every  man  has  a  chance  of  rising,  and  I 
am  quite  sure  that  you,  with  your  advantages,  would  do 
so.  You  understand  that,  as  I  said,  it  is  mere  work  that  I 
am  offering  you.  Doubtless  standing  behind  a  countef 
wil  not  be  very  congenial  work  to  one  brought  up  as  you 
have  been  ;  but  you  might  do  infinitely  worse,  and  I  can 
at  least  promise  you  that  you  will  be  treated  as  a  man — 
not  as  in  many  places  you  would  find  it,  as  a  mere 
'hand."1 

Possibly  when  he  first  arrived  in  London,  Frithiof  might 
have  scouted  such  a  notion  if  it  had  been  proposed  to 
him,  but  now  his  first  question  was  whether  he  was  really 
qualified  for  the  situation.  Those  hard  words  which  had 
so  often  confronted  him — "Experienced  only" — flashed 
into  his  mind. 

"I  have  had  a  good  education,"  he  said,  "and,  of 
course,  understand  bookkeeping  and  so  forth,  but  I  have 
had  no  experience." 


j  10  A  HARD  Y  NORSEMAN. 

"  I  quite  understand  that,"  said  Mr.  Boniface.  "But 
you  would  soon  get  into  the  way  of  things.  My  son 
would  show  you  exactly  what  your  work  would  be." 

"Of  course  I  would,"  said  Roy.  "Think  it  over, 
Falck,  for  at  any  rate  it  would  keep  you  going  for  a  time 
while  you  look  round  for  a  better  opening." 

"  Yes,  there  is  no  need  to  make  up  your  mind  to-night. 
Sleep  upon  it,  and  let  me  know  how  you  decide  to-mor- 
row. If  you  think  of  accepting  the  situation,  then  come 
and  see  me  in  Regent  Street  between  half-past  one  and 
two  o'clock.  We  close  at  two  on  Saturdays.  And  in  any 
case,  whether  you  accept  or  refuse  this  situation,  I  hope 
you  will  come  and  spend  Saturday  to  Monday  with  us 
here. " 

"You  are  very  good,"  said  Frithiof,  thinking  to  himself 
how  unlike  these  people  were  to  any  others  he  had  come 
across  in  London.  Miss  Charlotte  Tumour  had  tried  to 
do  him  good  ;  it  was  part  of  her  creed  to  try  to  do  good 
to  people.  The  Bonifaces,  on  the  other  hand,  had  simply 
been  friendly  and  hospitable  to  him,  had  shown  him  that 
they  really  cared  for  him,  that  they  were  sorry  for  his  sor- 
row, and  anxious  over  his  anxieties.  But  from  Rowan 
Tree  House  he  went  away  with  a  sense  of  warmth  about 
the  heart,  and  from  Miss  Charlotte  he  invariably  turned 
away  hardened  and  disgusted.  Perhaps  it  was  that  she 
began  at  the  wrong  end,  and  like  so  many  people  in  the 
world,  offered  the  hard  crust  of  dogmatic  utterances  to  one 
who  was  as  yet  only  capable  of  being  nourished  on  the 
real  substance  of  the  loaf — a  man  who  was  dying  for 
want  of  love,  and  who  no  more  needed  elaborate  the- 
ological schemes  than  the  starving  man  in  the  desert 
needs  the  elaborate  courses  of  a  dinner-party. 

It  is  God's  way  to  reveal  himself  through  man,  though 
we  are  forever  trying  to  improve  upon  his  way,  and  en- 
deavoring to  convert  others  by  articles  of  religion  instead 
of  the  beauty  of  holiness. 

As  Frithiof  walked  home  to  Vauxhall  he  felt  more  at  rest 
than  he  had  done  for  many  days.  They  had  not  preached 
at  him  ;  they  had  not  given  him  unasked-for  advice  ;  they 
had  merely  given  one  of  the  best  gifts  that  can  be  given 
in  this  world,  the  sight  of  one  of  those  homes  where  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  has  begun — a  home,  that  is,  where 
"  righteousness  and  peace  and  joy  "are  the  rule,  and  what- 
ever contradicts  this  reign  of  love  the  rare  exception. 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  1 1 1 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  gloomy  little  lodging-house  felt  desolate  enough 
to  him  as  he  unlocked  the  door  with  his  latch-key  and 
climbed  the  creaking  stairs  to  his  sparsely  furnished  room. 
Evidently  the  three  Miss  Tumours  were  having  a  very 
animated  quarrel,  for  their  voices  were  pitched  in  that 
high  key  which  indicates  a  stormy  atmosphere,  and  even 
their  words  reached  him  distinctly  as  he  passed  by  the 
bedroom  which  was  the  arena  of  strife. 

"But,  my  dear  Caroline — " 

"Don't  talk  nonsense,  my  dear,  you  know  pefectly 
well — " 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,  my  dear — " 

"  I  wonder,"  thought  Frithiof,  "  whether  they  ever 
allow  each  to  finish  a  sentence.  It's  like  the  catch  that 
they  used  to  sing  at  Balholm,  about  'Celia's  Charms.'  If 
any  one  ever  writes  a  catch  called  'The  Quarrel,'  he 
must  take  care  to  stick  in  plenty  of  '  my  dears  ! ' ' 

Strict  economy  in  gas  was  practiced  by  the  Miss  Turn- 
ours,  and  Frithiof  had  to  grope  about  for  matches.  "At- 
tendance," too,  did  not  apparently  include  drawing  down 
the  blind,  or  turning  down  the  bed.  The  room  looked 
most  bare  and  comfortless,  and  the  dismal  gray  paper 
with  its  oblong  slabs,  supposed,  by  courtesy,  to  represent 
granite,  was  as  depressing  as  the  dungeon  of  Giant  De- 
spair's castle. 

To  stay  here  with  nothing  to  do — to  fag  through  weary 
days  of  disappointing  search  after  work,  and  then  to  re- 
turn to  this  night  after  night,  was  but  a  sorry  prospect. 
Would  it  not  indeed  be  well  for  him  if  he  swallowed  his 
pride  and  accepted  this  offer  of  perfectly  honorable  work 
which  had  been  made  to  him.  The  idea  was  in  many 
ways  distasteful  to  him,  and  yet  dared  he  reject  it  ? 

Looking  honestly  into  his  own  mind  he  detected  there 
something  that  urged  him  to  snatch  at  this  first  chance  of 
work,  lest,  with  fresh  failure  and  disappointment,  the 
very  desire  for  work  should  die  within  him,  and  he  should 
sink  into  a  state  which  his  better  nature  abhorred.  The 
clatter  of  tongues  still  ascended  from  below.  He  took 


112  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN'. 

off  his  boots,  dropping  first  one  and  then  the  other  with 
a  resounding  thud  upon  the  floor,  after  the  manner  of 
men.  Then,  wondering  whether  consciousness  of  his 
being  within  earshot  would  allay  the  storm,  he  threw 
down  both  boots  at  once  with  a  portentous  noise  out- 
side his  room  and  shut  and  locked  the  door  with  em- 
phasis. Still  the  female  battle  continued.  He  threw  him- 
self down  on  the  bed  wondering  what  it  was  that  made 
families  so  different.  It  was  not  money  which  gave  the 
tone  to  the  Bonifaces,  house.  The  Morgans  were  in- 
finitely richer.  It  was  not  a  great  profession  of  religion. 
The  Miss  Tumours  were  all  ardently  and  disputatiously 
religious.  What  was  it  ? 

He  fell  asleep  before  he  had  solved  the  problem,  and 
had  an  odd,  confused  dream.  He  dreamed  that  he  was 
climbing  the  Romsdalshorn,  and  that  darkness  had  over- 
taken him.  Below  him  was  a  sheer  precipice,  and  he 
could  hear  the  roar  of  wild  beasts  as  they  wandered  to 
and  fro  thirsting  for  his  blood. 

"They  are  bound  to  get  me  sooner  or  later,"  he  thought, 
"  for  I  can  never  hold  out  till  daylight.  I  may  as  well 
let  myself  go. " 

And  the  thought  of  the  horror  of  that  fall  was  so  great 
that  he  almost  woke  with  it.  But  something  seemed  to 
quiet  him  again.  It  was  partly  curiosity  to  understand  the 
meaning  of  a  light  which  had  dawned  in  the  sky,  and 
which  deepened  and  spread  every  moment.  At  last  he 
saw  that  it  had  been  caused  by  the  opening  of  a  door, 
and  in  the  doorway,  with  a  glory  of  light  all  about  them, 
he  saw  the  Madonna  and  the  Holy  Child.  A  path  of 
light  traced  itself  from  them  on  the  mountain  side  to  the 
place  where  he  stood,  and  he  struggled  up,  no  longer 
afraid  to  go  forward,  and  without  a  thought  of  the  beasts 
or  the  precipice.  And  thus  struggling  on,  all  details  were 
lost  in  the  flood  of  light,  and  v/armth,  and  perfect  content, 
and  a  welcome  that  left  nothing  wanting. 

A  pushing  back  of  chairs  in  the  room  below  suddenly 
roused  him.  With  a  sense  of  bewilderment,  he  found 
himself  lying  on  the  hard  lodging-house  bed,  and  heard 
the  quarrelsome  voices  rising  through  the  floor. 

"Still  at  it,"  he  thought  to  himself  with  a  bitter  smile. 
And  then  he  thought  of  the  picture  of  the  Romsdalshorn 
he  had  seen  that  afternoon — he  remembered  a  horrible 
temptation  that  had  seized  him — remembered  Cecil  stand- 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  113 

ing  in  the  open  door  with  the  child  in  her  arms,  remem- 
bered the  perfect  welcome  he  had  received  from  the  whole 
house.  Should  he  in  his  foolish  pride  drift  into  the  mis- 
erable state  of  these  poor  Tumours,  and  drag  through  life 
in  poverty,  because  he  was  too  well-born  to  take  the  work 
he  could  get  ? 

"  These  poor  ladies  would  be  happier  even  in  service 
than  they  are  here,  in  what  they  call  independence,"  he 
reflected.  "  I  shall  take  this  situation  ;  it's  the  first  step 
up." 

The  next  morning  he  went  to  the  Swedish  Embassy  to 
ask  advice  once  more. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  said  the  consul.  "I  was 
hoping  you  would  look  in  again,  for  I  met  old  Sivertsen 
the  other  day,  and  he  was  most  anxious  to  have  your  ad- 
dress. He  said  you  went  off  in  a  hurry,  and  never  gave 
him  time  to  finish  what  he  was  saying." 

Frithiof  smiled. 

"  He  did  nothing  but  inveigh  against  the  rising  genera- 
tion, and  I  didn't  care  to  waste  the  whole  morning  over 
that." 

"You  have  too  little  diplomacy  about  you,"  said  the 
consul.  "You  do  not  make  the  best  of  your  own  case. 
However,  Sivertsen  seems  to  have  taken  a  fancy  to  you, 
and  I  advise  you  to  go  to  him  again  ;  he  will  most  likely 
offer  you  work.  If  I  were  you,  I  would  make  up  my 
mind  to  take  whatever  honest  work  turns  up,  and  throw 
pride  to  the  winds.  Leave  your  address  here  with  me, 
and  if  I  hear  of  anything  I'll  let  you  know." 

Frithiof,  somewhat  unwillingly,  made  his  way  to  Mu- 
seum Street,  and  was  ushered  into  the  stuffy  little  den 
where  Herr  Siversten  sat  smoking  and  writing  serenely. 
He  bowed  stiffly,  but  was  startled  to  see  the  sudden 
change  which  came  over  the  face  of  the  old  Norwegian 
at  sight  of  him. 

"So!  You  have  come  back,  then!"  he  exclaimed, 
shaking  him  warmly  by  the  hand,  just  as  though  they 
had  parted  the  best  of  friends.  "  I  am  glad  of  it.  Why 
didn't  you  tell  me  the  real  state  of  the  case  ?  Why  didn't 
you  tell  me  you  were  one  of  the  victims  of  the  accursed 
thirst  for  gold?  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  of  the  hardness 
and  rapacity  of  the  English  firm  ?  But  you  are  all  alike — 
all  !  Young  men  nowadays  can't  put  a  decent  sentence 
together  ;  they  clip  their  words  as  close  as  if  they  were 
& 


H4  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

worth  a  mint  of  money.  A  worthless  generation  !  Sit 
down,  now,  sit  down,  and  tell  me  what  you  can  do." 

Frithiof,  perceiving  that  what  had  first  seemed  like 
boorishness  was  really  eccentricity,  took  the  proffered 
chair,  and  tried  to  shake  off  the  mantle  of  cold  reserve 
which  had  of  late  fallen  upon  him. 

"  I  can  do  translating,"  he  replied.  "  English,  German, 
or  Norwegian.  I  am  willing  to  do  copying  ;  but  there,  I 
suppose,  the  type-writers  would  cut  me  out.  Anyway, 
I  have  four  hours  to  spare  in  the  evening,  and  I  want 
them  filled." 

"You  have  found  some  sort  of  work  then  already  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have  got  work  which  will  bring  me  in  twenty- 
five  shillings  a  week,  but  it  leaves  me  free  from  eight 
o'clock,  and  I  want  evening  employment.' 

Herr  Sivertsen  gave  a  grunt  which  expressed  encourage- 
ment and  approval.  He  began  shuffling  about  masses  of 
foolscap  and  proofs  which  were  strewed  in  wild  confusion 
about  the  writing-table.  "These  are  the  revised  proofs 
of  Scanbury's  new  book ;  take  this  page  and  let  me  see 
how  you  can  render  it  into  Norwegian.  Here  are  pen  and 
paper.  Sit  down  and  try  your  hand." 

Frithiof  obeyed.  Herr  Sivertsen  seemed  satisfied  with 
the  result. 

"  Put  the  same  page  into  German,"  he  said. 

Frithiof  worked  away  in  silence,  and  the  old  author 
paced  to  and  fro  with  his  pipe,  giving  a  furtive  glance  now 
and  then  at  the  down-bent  head  with  its  fair,  obstinate 
hair  brushed  erect  in  Norwegian  fashion,  and  the  fine  Gre- 
cian profile  upon  which  the  d  rk  look  of  trouble  sat 
strangely.  In  spite  of  the  sarcasm  nd  bitterness  which 
disappointment  had  roused  in  F/thiof's  nature  the  old 
author  saw  that  such  traits  were  foreign  to  his  real  char- 
acter— that  they  were  but  a  thin  veneer,  and  that  beneath 
them  lay  the  brave  and  noble  nature  of  the  hardy  Norse- 
man. The  consul's  account  of  his  young  countryman's 
story  had  moved  him  greatly,  and  he  was  determined 
now  to  do  what  he  could  for  him.  He  rang  the  bell 
and  ordered  the  Norwegian  maid-servant  to  bring  lunch 
for  two,  adding  an  emphatic  "  Strax !"  (immediately), 
which  made  Frithiof  look  up  from  his  writing. 

"  You  have  finished  ?  "  asked  Herr  Sivertsen. 

"  Not  quite,     I  can't  get  this  last  bit  quite  to  my  mind. 


A  HA  RD  Y  NORSEMAN.  1 1 5 

I  don't  believe  there  is  an  equivalent  in  German  for  that 
expression." 

"You  are  quite  right.  There  isn't.  I  couldn't  get  any- 
thing for  it  myself.  What  have  you  put  ?  Good  !  very 
good.  It  is  an  improvement  on  what  I  have  thought  of. 
The  sentence  runs  better." 

He  took  the  paper  from  the  table  and  mumbled  through 
it  in  an  approving  tone. 

' '  Good  !  you  will  do, "  he  said  at  the  end.  ' '  Now  while 
we  lunch  together  we  can  discuss  terms.  Ha  !  what  has 
she  brought  us?  Something  that  pretends  to  be  German 
sausage  !  Good  heavens  !  The  depravity  of  the  age  ! 
This  German  sausage  indeed  !  I  must  apologize  to  you 
for  having  it  on  the  table,  but  servants  are  alike  now- 
adays— all  alike  !  Not  one  of  them  can  understand 
how  to  do  the  marketing  properly.  A  worthless  gen- 
eration !  " 

Frithiof  began  to  be  faintly  amused  by  the  old  man,  and 
as  he  walked  away  from  Museum  Street  with  a  week's 
work  under  his  arm  he  felt  in  better  spirits  than  he  had 
done  for  some  time. 

With  not  a  little  curiosity  he  sought  out  the  Bonifaces' 
shop  in  Regent  Street.  It  had  a  well-ordered,  prosperous 
look  about  it ; — double  doors  kept  the  draught  from  those 
within,  the  place  was  well  warmed  throughout ;  on  each 
side  of  the  door  was  a  counter  with  a  desk  and  a  stool, 
Mr.  Boniface  being  one  of  those  who  consider  that  sitting 
is  as  cheap  as  standing,  and  the  monotony  of  the  long 
shelves  full  of  holland-covered  portfoli  s  was  broken  by 
busts  of  Beethoven,  Mozart,  Wagner,  and  other  great 
musicians.  The  inner  shop  was  consecrated  to  instru- 
ments of  all  kinds,  and  through  this  Frithiof  was  taken  to 
Mr.  Boniface's  private  room. 

"Well,"  said  the  shop-owner,  greeting  him  kindly. 
"And  have  you  made  your  decision  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  have  decided  to  accept  the  situation,"  said 
Frithiof.  And  something  in  his  face  and  bearing  showed 
plainly  that  he  was  all  the  better  for  his  choice. 

"  I  forget  whether  I  told  you  about  the  hours,"  said  Mr. 
Boniface.  "Half-past  eight  in  the  morning  till  half-past 
seven  at  night,  an  hour  out  of  that  for  dinner,  and  half  an 
hour  for  tea.  You  will  have  of  course  the  usual  Bank 
holidays,  and  we  also  arrange  that  each  of  our  men  shall 
have  a  fortnight  some  time  during  the  summer," 


1 1 6  A  HARD  Y  NORSEMAN. 

"You  are  very  thoughtful  for  your  hands,"  said  Frithio£ 
"It is  few,  I  should  fancy,  who  would  allow  so  much." 

"I  don't  know  that,"  said  Mr.  Boniface.  "A  good 
many,  I  fancy,  try  something  of  the  sort,  and  I  am  quite 
sure  that  it  invariably  answers.  It  is  not  in  human  nature 
to  go  on  forever  at  one  thing — every  one  needs  variety. 
Business  becomes  a  treadmill  if  you  never  get  a  thorough 
change,  and  I  like  my  people  to  put  their  heart  into  the 
work.  If  you  try  to  do  that  you  will  be  of  real  value, 
and  are  bound  to  rise." 

"  Look,"  said  Roy,  showing  him  a  neatly  drawn-out 
plan  of  names  and  dates.  "This  is  the  holiday  chart 
which  we  worked  out  this  summer.  It  takes  my  father 
quite  a  long  time  to  arrange  it  all  and  make  each  dovetail 
properly  with  the  others." 

They  lingered  for  a  few  minutes  talking  over  the  details 
of  the  business,  then  Roy  took  Frithiof  down  into  the 
shop  again,  and  in  the  uninterrupted  quiet  of  the  Saturday 
afternoon  showed  him  exactly  what  his  future  work  would 
be.  He  was  to  preside  at  the  song-counter  and  Roy 
initiated  him  into  the  arrangement  of  the  brown-holland 
portfolios  with  their  black  lettering,  showed  him  his  desk 
with  account-books,  order-book,  and  cash-box,  even 
made  him  practice  rolling  up  music  in  the  neat  white 
wrappers  that  lay  ready  to  hand — a  feat  which  at  first  he 
did  not  manage  very  quickly. 

"I  am  afraid  all  this  must  be  very  uncongenial  to 
you,"  said  Roy. 

"Perhaps,"  said  Frithiof.  "But  it  will  do  as  well  as 
anything  else.  And  indeed,"  he  added  warmly,  "one 
would  put  up  with  a  great  deal  for  the  sake  of  being  under 
such  a  man  as  Mr.  Boniface." 

"  The  real  secret  of  the  sucess  of  the  business  is  that  he 
personally  looks  after  every  detail,"  said  Roy.  "All  the 
men  he  employs  are  fond  of  him  ;  he  expects  them  to  do 
their  best  for  him,  and  he  does  his  best  for  them.  I  think 
you  may  really  be  happy  enough  here,  though  of  course 
it  is  not  at  all  the  sort  of  life  you  were  brought  up  to 
expect. " 

Each  thought  involuntarily  of  the  first  time  they  had 
met,  and  of  Blanche  Morgan's  ill-timed  speech — "  Only  a 
shopkeeper  !  "  Roy  understood  perfectly  well  what  it 
was  that  brought  the  bitter  look  into  his  companion's 
face,  and,  thinking  t^hat  they  had  stayed  long  enough  for 


A  HARD  Y  NORSEMAN.  117 

Frithiof  to  get  a  pretty  clear  idea  of  the  work  which 
lay  before  him  on  Monday  morning,  he  proposed  that 
they  should  go  home  together.  He  had  long  ago  got 
over  the  selfish  desire  to  be  quit  of  the  responsibility  of 
being  with  the  Norwegian  ;  his  first  awkward  shyness 
had  been,  after  all,  natural  enough,  for  those  whose  lives 
have  been  very  uneventful  seldom  understand  how  to 
deal  with  people  in  trouble  and  are  apt  to  shrink  away 
in  unsympathetic  silence  because  they  have  not  learned 
from  their  own  sore  need  what  it  is  that  human  nature 
craves  for  in  sorrow.  But  each  time  he  met  Frithiof  now 
he  felt  that  the  terrible  evening  at  the  Arundel  had  broken 
down  the  barriers  which  hitherto  had  kept  him  from 
friendship  with  any  one  out  of  his  own  family.  Mere 
humanity  had  forced  him  to  stay  as  the  solitary  witness 
of  an  overwhelming  grief,  and  he  had  gained  in  this  way 
a  knowledge  of  life  and  a  sympathy  with  Frithiof,  of 
which  he  had  been  quite  incapable  before. 

He  began  to  know  intuitively  how  things  would  strike 
Frithiof,  and  as  they  went  down  to  Brixton  he  prepared 
him  for  what  he  shrewdly  surmised  would  be  the  chief 
disagreeable  in  his  business  life. 

"I  don't  think  you  heard,"  he  began,  "that  there  is 
another  partner  in  our  firm — a  cousin  of  my  father's — 
James  Horner.  I  dare  say  you  will  not  come  across  him 
very  much,  but  he  is  fond  of  interfering  now  and  then, 
and  sometimes  if  my  father  is  away  he  gets  fussy  and 
annoying.  He  is  not  at  all  popular  in  the  shop,  and  I 
thought  I  would  just  warn  you  beforehand,  though  of 
course  you  are  not  exactly  expecting  a  bed  of  roses." 

It  would  have  been  hard  to  say  exactly  what  Frithiof 
was  expecting  ;  his  whole  life  had  been  unstrung,  and 
this  new  beginning  represented  to  him  merely  a  certain 
amount  of  monotonous  work  to  the  tune  of  five-and- 
twenty  shillings  a  week. 

When  they  reached  Rowan  Tree  House  they  found  a 
carriage  waiting  at  the  door. 

"  Talk  of  the  angel  and  its  wings  appear,"  said  Roy. 
"The  Homers  are  calling  here.  What  a  nuisance  !  " 

Frithiof  felt  inclined  to  echo  this  sentiment  when  he 
found  himself  in  the  pretty  drawing-room  once  more, 
and  became  conscious  of  the  presence  of  an  overdressed 
woman  and  a  bumptious  little  man  with  mutton-chop 
Whiskers  and  inquisitive  eyes,  whose  air  of  patronage 


II 8  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN 

would  have  been  comical  had  it  not  been  galling  to  his 
Norwegian  independence.  Roy  had  done  well  to  prepare 
him,  for  nothing  could  have  been  so  irritating  to  his  sen- 
sitive refinement  as  the  bland  self-satisfaction,  the  innate 
vulgarity  of  James  Horner.  Mrs.  Boniface  and  Cecil 
greeted  him  pleasantly,  and  Mrs.  Horner  bowed  her  lofty 
bonnet  with  dignity  when  he  was  introduced  to  her,  and 
uttered  a  platitude  about  the  weather  in  an  encouraging 
tone,  which  speedily  changed,  however,  when  she  dis- 
covered that  he  was  actually  "one  of  the  hands." 

"The  Bonifaces  have  no  sense  of  what  is  fitting,"  she 
said,  afterward,  to  her  husband.  "The  idea  of  introduc- 
ing one  of  the  shopmen  to  me  !  I  never  go  into  Love- 
day's  drawing-room  without  longing  to  leave  behind  me 
a  book  on  etiquette." 

"  She's  a  well-meaning  soul,"  said  James  Horner,  con- 
descendingly ;  "but  countrified  still,  and  unpolished. 
It's  strange,  after  so  many  years  of  London  life." 

"Not  strange  at  all,"  retorted  Mrs.  Horner,  snappishly. 
"She  never  tries  to  copy  correct  models,  so  how's  it 
likely  her  manners  should  improve.  I'm  not  at  all  partial 
to  Cecil,  either.  They'll  never  make  a  stylish  girl  of  her 
with  their  ridiculous  ideas  about  stays  and  all  that.  I'll 
be  bound  her  waist's  a  good  five-and-twenty  inches." 

"Oh,  well,  my  dear,  I  really  don't  see  much  to  find 
fault  with  in  Cecil." 

"But  I  do,"  said  Mrs.  Horner,  emphatically.  "  For  all 
her  quietness,  there's  a  deal  of  obstinacy  about  the  girl. 
I  should  like  to  know  what  she  means  to  do  with  that 
criminal's  children  that  she  has  foisted  m  to  the  family  ?  I 
detest  people  who  are  always  doing  outr'e  .hings  like  that 
— it's  all  of  a  piece  with  their  fads  about  no  stays  and 
Jaeger's  woolen  clothes.  The  old  customs  are  good 
enough  for  me,  and  I'm  sure,  rather  than  let  myself  grow 
as  stout  as  Loveday,  I'd  tight-lace  night  as  well  as  day." 

"She's  not  much  of  a  figure,  it's  true." 

"Figure  indeed!"  echoed  his  wife.  "A  feather-bed 
tied  round  with  a  string,  that's  what  she  is." 

"But  she  makes  the  house  very  comfortable,  and  al- 
ways has  a  good  table,"  said  Mr.  Horner,  reflectively. 

His  wife  tossed  her  head  and  flushed  angrily,  for  she 
knew  quite  well  that  while  the  Bonifaces  spent  no  more 
on  housekeeping  than  she  did,  their  meals  were  always 
more  tempting,  more  daintily  arranged.  She  was  some- 


A  HARD  Y  NORSEMAN.  1 1 9 

how  destitute  of  the  gift  of  devising  nice  little  dinners, 
and  could  by  no  means  compass  a  pretty-looking  supper. 

"It  seems  to  me,  you  know,"  said  James  Horner,  "that 
we  go  on  year  after  year  in  a  dull  round  of  beef  and  mut- 
ton, mutton  and  beef/' 

"Well,  really,  Mr.  H. ,"  she  replied,  sharply,  "if  you 
want  me  to  feed  you  on  game  and  all  the  delicacies  of  the 
season,  you  must  give  me  a  little  more  cash,  that's  all." 

"  I  never  said  that  I  wanted  you  to  launch  out  into  all 
the  delicacies  of  the  season.  Loveday  doesn't  go  in  for 
anything  extravagant ;  but  somehow  one  wearies  of 
eternal  beef  and  mutton.  I  wish  they'd  invent  another 
animal !  " 

"And  till  they  do,  I'll  thank  you  not  to  grumble,  Mr. 
H.  If  there's  one  thing  that  seems  to  me  downright  un- 
christian it  is  to  grumble  at  things.  Why,  where's  that 
idiot  of  a  coachman  driving  us  to  ?  It's  half  a  mile  farther 
that  way.  He  really  must  leave  us  ;  I  can't  stand  hav- 
ing a  servant  one  can't  depend  on.  He  has  no  brains 
at  all." 

She  threw  down  the  window  and  shouted  a  correction 
to  the  coachman,  but,  unluckily,  in  drawing  in  her  head 
again  the  lofty  bonnet  came  violently  into  contact  with 
the  roof  of  the  carriage.  "Dear!  what  a  bother!"  she 
exclaimed.  "There  is  my  osprey  crushed  all  to  noth- 
ing ! " 

"Well,  Cecil  would  say  it  was  a  judgment  on  you," 
said  James  Horner,  smiling.  "  Didn't  you  hear  what  she 
was  telling  us  just  now  ? — they  kill  the  parent  birds  by 
scores  and  leave  the  young  ones  to  die  of  starvation. 
It's  only  in  the  breeding  season  that  they  can  get  these 
feathers  at  all." 

"  Pshaw  !  what  do  I  care  for  a  lot  of  silly  little  birds  ?  " 
said  Mrs.  Horner,  passing  her  hand  tenderly  and  anxious- 
ly over  the  crushed  bonnet.  "  I  shall  buy  a  fresh  one  on 
Monday,  if  it's  only  to  spite  that  girl  ;  she's  forever  taking 
up  some  craze  about  people  or  animals  being  hurt.  It's 
no  affair  of  mine;  my  motto  is  'Live  and  let  live,'  and 
don't  be  forever  ferreting  up  grievances." 

Frithiof  breathed  more  freely  when  the  Homers  had 
left  Rowan  Tree  House,  and  indeed  every  one  seemed  to 
feel  that  a  weight  had  been  removed,  and  a  delightful 
sense  of  ease  took  possession  of  all. 

"Cousin  Georgina  will  wear  ospreys  to  the  bitter  end, 


t2d  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

I  prophesy,"  said  Roy.  "You'll  never  convince  her  that 
anything-  she  likes  is  really  hard  on  others." 

"  Of  course  many  people  have  worn  them  before  they 
knew  of  the  cruelty,"  said  Cecil,  "but  afterward  I  can't 
think  how  they  can. " 

"You  see,  people,  as  a  rule,  don't  really  care  about  pain 
at  a  distance,"  said  Frithiof.  "Torture  thousands  of  these 
herons  and  egrets  by  a  lingering  death,  and  though  peo- 
ple know  it  is  so  they  won't  care  ;  but  take  one  person 
within  hearing  of  their  cries,  and  that  person  will  wonder 
how  any  human  being  can  be  such  a  barbarian  as  to  wear 
these  so-called  ospreys." 

"I  suppose  it  is  that  we  are  so  very  slow  to  realize 
pain  that  we  don't  actually  see." 

"People  don't  really  want  to  stop  pain  till  it  makes 
them  personally  uncomfortable,"  replied  Frithiof. 

"That  sounds  horribly  selfish." 

"Most  things  come  round  to  selfishness  when  you 
trace  them  out." 

"  Do  you  really  quite  think  that?  I  don't  think  it  can 
be  true,  because  it  is  not  of  one's  self  that  one  thinks  in 
trying  to  do  away  with  the  sufferings  of  the  world  ;  re- 
formers always  know  that  they  will  have  to  endure  a 
great  deal  of  pain  themselves,  and  it  is  the  thought  of 
lessening  it  for  others  that  makes  them  brave  enough  to 
go  on." 

"  But  you  must  allow,"  said  Frithiof,  "that,  to  get  up 
a  big  subscription,  you  must  have  a  harrowing  account  of 
a  catastrophe.  You  must  stir  people's  hearts  so  that  they 
won't  be  comfortable  again  till  they  have  given  a  guinea  ; 
it  is  their  own  pain  that  prompts  them  to  act — their  own 
personal  discomfort." 

"That  may  be,  perhaps  ;  but  it  is  not  altogether  selfish- 
ness if  they  really  do  give  help ;  it  must  be  a  godlike 
thing  that  makes  them  want  to  cure  pain — a  devil  would 
gloat  over  it.  Why  should  you  call  it  selfishness  because 
the  good  pleases  them  ?  '  Le  bien  me  plait '  was  a  good 
enough  motto  for  the  Steadfast  Prince,  why  not  for  the 
rest  of  us  ? " 

"But  it  is  orthodox,  surely,  to  do  what  you  dislike 
doing  ? " 

"  Yes,"  struck  in  Roy,  ' '  like  the  nursery  rhyme  about — 

"  The  twelve  Miss  Pellicoes,  they  say,  were  always  taught 
To  do  the  thing  they  didn't  like,  which  means  the  thing  they  ought." 


A  HARD  Y  NORSEMAN.  1 2 1 

"But  that  seems  to  me  exactly  what  is  false,"  said 
Cecil.  "  Surely  we  have  to  grow  into  liking  the  right  and 
the  unselfish,  and  hating  the  thing  that  only  pleases  the 
lower  part  of  us  ?  " 

"But  the  growth  is  slow  with  most  of  us,"  said  Mr. 
Boniface.  "There's  a  specimen  for  you,"  and  he  glanced 
toward  the  door  where  an  altercation  was  going  on  be- 
tween Master  Lance  and  the  nurse,  who  had  come  to 
fetch  him  to  bed. 

"Oh,  come,  Lance,  don't  make  such  a  noise,"  cried 
Cecil,  crossing  the  room  and  putting  a  stop  to  the  sort  of 
war-dance  of  rage  and  passion  which  the  little  fellow  was 
executing.  "Why,  what  do  you  think  would  happen  to 
you  if  you  were  to  sit  up  late?  " 

"What?"  asked  Lance,  curiosity  gaining  the  upper 
hand  and  checking  the  frenzy  of  impatience  which  had 
possessed  him. 

"You  would  be  a  wretched  little,  cross  white  child,  and 
would  never  grow  up  into  a  strong  man.  Don't  you  want 
to  grow  big  and  strong  so  that  you  can  take  care  of  Gwen  ! '' 

"  And  I'll  take  care  of  you,  too,''  he  said,  benevolently. 
"I'll  take  you  all  the  way  to  Norway  and  row  you  in  a 
boat,  and  shoot  the  bears." 

Frithiof  smiled. 

"The  trouble  generally  is  to  find  bears  to  shoot." 

"  Yes,  but  Cecil  did  see  where  a  bear  had  made  its  bed 
up  on  Munkeggen,  didn't  you,  Cecil  ? " 

"Yes,  yes,  and  you  shall  go  with  me,  some  day,"  she 
said,  hurrying  the  little  fellow  off  because  she  thought  the 
allusion  to  Munkeggen  would  perhaps  hurt  Frithiof. 

Roy  was  on  the  point  of  taking  up  the  thread  of  con- 
versation again  about  Norway,  but  she  promptly  inter- 
vened. 

"I  don't  know  how  we  shall  cure  Lance  of  dancing 
with  rage  like  that ;  we  have  the  same  scene  every  night." 

"  You  went  the  right  way  to  work  just  now,"  said  Mr. 
Boniface.  "You  made  him  understand  why  his  own 
wishes  must  be  thwarted,  and  you  see  he  was  quite  will- 
ing to  believe  what  you  said.  You  had  a  living  proof  of 
what  you  were  arguing — he  did  what  he  had  once  dis- 
liked because  he  saw  that  it  was  the  road  to  something 
higher,  and  better,  and  more  really  desirable  than  his 
play  down  here.  In  time  he  will  have  a  sort  of  respect- 
ful liking  for  the  road  which  once  he  hated." 


122  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

"The  only  drawback  is,"  said  Frithiof,  rather  bitterly, 
"that  he  may  follow  the  road,  and  it  may  not  lead  him 
to  what  he  expects  ;  he  may  go  to  bed  like  an  angel,  and 
yet,  in  spite  of  that,  lose  his  health,  or  grow  up  without 
a  chance  of  taking  you  to  Norway  or  shooting  bears. " 

"Well,  what  then  ?"  said  Cecil  quietly.  "It  will  have 
led  him  on  in  the  right  direction,  and  if  he  is  disappointed 
of  just  those  particular  things,  why  he  must  look  farther 
and  higher." 

Frithiof  thought  of  his  dream  and  was  silent. 

"I'm  going  to  make  tea,  Roy,"  said  Mrs.  Boniface, 
laying  down  her  netting,  "and  you  had  better  show  Herr 
Falck  his  room.  I  hope  you'll  often  come  and  spend 
Sunday  with  us,"  she  added,  with  a  kindly  glance  at  the 
Norwegian. 

In  the  evening  they  had  music.  Roy  and  Cecil  both 
sang  well ;  their  voices  were  not  at  all  out  of  the  common, 
but  no  pains  had  been  spared  on  their  training,  and 
Frithiof  liked  the  comfortable  informal  way  in  which  they 
sang  one  thing  after  another,  treating  him  entirely  as  one 
of  the  family. 

"And  now  it  is  your  turn,"  said  Cecil  after  a  while. 
"Father,  where  is  that  Amati  that  somebody  sent  you  on 
approval?  Perhaps  Herr  Falck  would  try  it." 

"Oh,  do  you  play  the  violin?  "said  Mr.  Boniface; 
"  that  is  capital.  You'll  find  it  in  my  study  cupboard, 
Cecil ;  stay,  here's  the  key." 

Frithiof  protested  that  he  was  utterly  out  of  practice, 
that  it  was  weeks  since  he  had  touched  his  violin,  which 
had  been  left  behind  in  Norway  ;  but  when  he  actually 
saw  the  Amati  he  couldn't  resist  it,  and  it  ended  in  his 
playing  to  Cecil's  accompaniment  for  the  rest  of  the 
evening. 

To  Cecil  the  hours  seemed  to  fly,  and  Mrs.  Boniface, 
after  a  preliminary  round  of  tidying  up  the  room,  came 
and  stood  by  her,  watching  her  bright  face  with  motherly 
contentment. 

"Prayer  time,  darling,"  she  said,  as  the  sonata  came  to 
an  end;  "and  since  it's  Saturday  night  we  mustn't  be 
late." 

" Ten  o'clock  already ?"  she  exclaimed;  I  had  no  idea 
it  was  so  late  !  What  hymn  will  you  have,  father  ?  " 

"The  Evening  Hymn, "said  Mr.  Boniface  ;  and  Frithiof, 
wondering  a  little  what  was  going  to  happen,  obediently 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  123 

took  the  place  assigned  him,  saw  with  some  astonishment 
that  four  white-capped  maid-servants  had  come  into  the 
drawing-room  and  were  sitting  near  the  piano,  and  that 
Mr.  Boniface  was  turning  over  the  leaves  of  a  big  Bible. 
He  had  a  dim  recollection  of  having  read  something  in  an 
English  poem  about  a  similar  custom,  and  racked  his 
brain  to  remember  what  it  could  be,  until  the  words  of  a 
familiar  psalm  broke  the  stillness  of  the  room,  and  re- 
called him  to  the  present. 

"I  will  lift  up  mine  eyes  unto  the  hills,  from  whence 
cometh  my  help,  "read  Mr.  Boniface.  And  as  he  went  on, 
the  beautiful  old  poem  with  its  tender  reassuring  cadences 
somehow  touched  Frithiof,  so  that  when  they  stood  up 
to  sing  "  Glory  to  Thee,  my  God,  this  night,"  he  did  not 
cavil  at  each  line  as  he  would  have  done  a  little  while  be- 
fore, but  stood  listening  reverently,  conscious  of  a  vague 
desire  for  something  in  which  he  felt  himself  to  be  lacking. 
After  all,  the  old  beliefs  which  he  had  dismissed  so  lightly 
from  his  mind  were  not  without  a  power  and  a  beauty 
of  their  own. 

"I  wish  I  could  be  like  these  people,"  he  thought  to 
himself,  kneeling  for  the  first  time  for  years. 

And  though  he  did  not  hear  a  word  of  the  prayer,  and 
could  not  honestly  have  joined  in  it  if  he  had  heard,  his 
mind  was  full  of  a  longing  which  he  could  not  explain. 
The  fact  was  that  in  the  past  he  had  troubled  himself 
very  little  about  the  matter,  he  had  allowed  the  "zeit 
geist "  to  drive  him  as  it  would,  and  following  the  fashion 
of  his  companions  with  a  comfortable  consciousness  of 
having  plenty  to  keep  him  in  countenance,  he  had  thrown 
off  the  old  faiths. 

He  owned  as  much  to  Cecil  the  next  day  when,  after 
breakfast,  they  chanced  to  be  alone  together  for  a  few 
minutes. 

"  Have  you  found  any  Norwegian  service  in  London, 
or  will  you  come  with  us  ?  "  she  asked  unconsciously. 

"Oh,"  he  replied,  "I  gave  up  that  sort  of  thing  long 
ago,  and  while  you  are  out  I  will  get  on  with  some  trans- 
lation I  have  in  hand." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  said,  coloring  crimson,  "I 
had  no  idea,  or  I  should  not  have  asked.'' 

But  there  was  not  the  faintest  shade  of  annoyance  in 
Frithiof  s  face  ;  he  seemed  puzzled  at  her  confusion. 

"The  services  bored  me  so,"  he  explained.     He  did. 


t24  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

not  add  as  he  had  done  to  Blanche  that  in  his  opinion  relig- 
ion was  only  fit  for  women,  perhaps  because  it  would 
have  been  difficult  to  make  such  a  speech  to  Cecil,  or  per- 
haps because  the  recollection  of  the  previous  evening  still 
lingered  with  him. 

"Oh, "said  Cecil,  smiling  as  she  recognized  the  boy- 
ishness of  his  remark;  "I  suppose  every  one  goes 
through  a  stage  of  being  bored.  Roy  used  to  hate  Sun- 
day when  he  was  little ;  he  used  to  have  a  Sunday  pain 
which  came  on  quite  regularly  when  we  were  starting  to 
chapel,  so  that  he  could  stay  at  home." 

"I  know  you  will  all  think  me  a  shocking  sinner  to  stay 
at  home  translating  this  book,"  said  Frithiof. 

"No,  we  shan't,"  said  Cecil  quietly.  "If  you  thought 
it  was  right  to  go  to  church  of  course  you  would  go. 
You  look  at  things  differently." 

He  was  a  little  startled  by  her  liberality. 

' '  You  assume  by  that  that  I  always  do  what  I  know 
to  be  right,"  he  said  smiling.  "  What  makes  you  suppose 
any  such  thing  ?  " 

"  I  can't  tell  you  exactly  ;  but  don't  you  think  one  has 
a  sort  of  instinct  as  to  people?  without  really  having 
heard  anything  about  them,  one  can  often  know  that  they 
are  good  or  bad. " 

"  I  think  one  is  often  horribly  mistaken  in  people,"  said 
Frithiof  moodily. 

"Yes;  sometimes  one  gets  unfairly  prejudiced,  perhaps 
by  a  mere  likeness  to  another  person  whom  one  dislikes. 
Oh,  I  quite  allow  that  this  sort  of  instinct  is  not  infallible." 
.  "You  are  much  more  liable  to  think  too  well  of  people 
than  not  well  enough,"  said  Frithiof.  "You  are  a 
woman  and  have  seen  but  little  of  the  world.  Wait  till 
you  have  been  utterly  deceived  in  some  one,  and  then 
your  eyes  will  be  opened,  and  you  will  see  that  most 
people  are  at  heart  mean  and  selfish  and  contemptible." 

"  But  there  is  one  thing  that  opens  one's  eyes  to  see 
what  is  good  in  people,"  said  Cecil.  "  You  can't  love  all 
humanity  and  yet  think  them  mean  and  contemptible, 
you  will  soon  see  that  they  are  worth  a  great  deal." 

"It  is  as  you  said  just  now,"  said  Frithiof,  after  a  min- 
ute's silence,  "  we  look  at  things  differently.  You  look  at 
the  world  out  of  charitable  eyes  ;  I  look  at  it  seeing  its 
baseness  and  despising  it.  Some  day  you  will  see  that 
my  view  is  correct ;  you  will  find  that  your  kindly  judg- 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 


I25 


ments  are  wrong.  Perhaps  I  shall  be  the  first  to  unde- 
ceive you,  for  you  are  utterly  wrong  about  me.  You 
think  me  good,  but  it  is  ten  to  one  that  I  go  to  the  bad 
altogether  ;  after  all  it  would  be  the  easiest  way  and  the 
most  amusing." 

He  had  gone  on  speaking  recklessly,  but  Cecil  felt  much 
too  keenly  to  be  checked  by  any  conventionality  as  to  the 
duty  of  talking  only  of  surface  matters. 

"  You  are  unjust  to  the  world,  yourself  included  !  "  she 
exclaimed.  "  I  believe  that  you  have  too  much  of  the 
hardy  Norseman  about  you  ever  to  hanker  after  a  life  of 
ease  and  pleasure  which  must  really  ruin  you." 

"That  speech  only  shows  that  you  have  formed  too 
high  an  estimate  of  our  national  character,"  said  Frithiof. 
"Perhaps  you  don't  know  that  the  Norwegians  are  often 
drunkards  ?  " 

"Possibly;  and  so  are  the  English;  but  in  spite  of 
that,  is  not  the  real  national  character  true  and  noble  and 
full  of  a  sense  of  duty  ?  What  I  meant  about  you  was 
that  I  think  you  do  try  to  do  the  things  you  see  to  be 
right.  I  never  thought  you  were  perfect." 

"Then  if  I  do  the  things  that  I  see  to  be  right  I  can 
only  see  a  very  little,  that's  certain,"  he  said  lightly. 

"  Exactly  so,"  she  replied,  unable  to  help  laughing  a 
little  at  his  tone.  "And  I  think  that  you  have  been  too 
lazy  to  take  the  trouble  to  try  and  see  more.  However, 
that  brings  us  round  again  to  the  things  that  bore  you. 
Would  you  like  to  write  at  this  table  in  the  window  ? 
You  will  be  quite  quiet  in  here  till  dinner-time." 

She  found  him  pens  and  ink,  tore  a  soiled  sheet  off  the 
blotting-pad,  drew  up  the  blind  so  as  to  let  in  just  enough 
sunshine,  and  then  left  him  to  his  translating. 

"  What  a  strange  girl  she  is,"  he  thought  to  himself. 
"  As  frank  and  outspoken  as  a  boy,  and  yet  with  all  sorts 
:>f  little  tender  touches  about  her.  Sigrid  would  like  her  ; 
they  did  take  to  one  another  at  Balholm,  I  remember." 

Then,  with  a  bitter  recollection  of  one  who  had  eclipsed 
all  others  during  that  happy  week  on  the  Sogne  Fjord, 
the  hard  look  came  back  to  his  face,  and  taking  up  his 
pen  he  began  to  work  doggedly  at  Herr  Sivertsen's  manu- 
script. 

The  next  morning  his  new  life  began  ;  he  turned  his 
back  on  the  past  and  deliberately  made  his  downward 
step  on  the  social  ladder,  which  nevertheless  meant  an 


126  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

upward  step  on  the  ladder  of  honesty  and  success.  Still 
there  was  no  denying  that  the  loss  of  position  chafed  him 
sorely  ;  he  detested  having  to  treat  such  a  man  as  James 
Horner  as  his  master  and  employer ;  he  resented  the 
free-and-easy  tone  of  the  other  men  employed  on  the 
premises.  Mr.  Horner,  who  was  the  sort  of  man  who 
would  have  patronized  an  archangel  for  the  sake  of  show- 
ing off  his  own  superior  affability,  unluckily  chanced  to 
be  in  the  shop  a  good  deal  during  that  first  week,  and  the 
new  hand  received  a  large  share  of  his  notice.  Frithiofs 
native  courtesy  bore  him  up  through  a  good  deal,  but  at 
last  his  pride  got  the  better  of  him,  and  he  made  it  so  per- 
fectly apparent  to  the  bumptious  little  man  that  he  de- 
sired to  have  as  little  to  do  with  him  as  possible,  that 
James  Horner's  bland  patronage  speedily  changed  to  active 
dislike. 

"What  induced  you  to  choose  that  Falck  in  Smith's 
place  ?  "  he  said  to  Mr.  Boniface,  in  a  grumbling  tone. 
He  persisted  in  dropping  the  broad  "a"  in  Frithiofs 
name,  and  pronouncing  it  as  if  it  rhymed  with  "  talc  " — a 
sound  peculiarly  offensive  to  Norwegian  ears. 

"  He  is  a  friend  of  Roy's,"  was  the  reply.  "What  is  it 
that  you  dislike  about  him  ?  He  seems  to  me  likely  to 
prove  very  efficient." 

"Oh,  yes;  he  has  his  wits  about  him,  perhaps  rather 
too  much  so,  but  I  can't  stand  the  ridiculous  airs  the  fellow 
gives  himself.  Order  him  to  do  anything,  and  he'll  do  it 
as  haughtily  as  though  he  were  master  and  I  servant ; 
and  as  for  treating  him  in  a  friendly  way  it's  impossible, 
he's  as  stand-offish  as  if  he  were  a  Croesus  instead  of  a 
poor  beggar  without  a  penny  to  bless  himself  with." 

"He  is  a  very  reserved  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Boniface; 
"and  you  must  remember  that  this  work  is  probably  dis- 
tasteful to  him.  You  see  he  has  been  accustomed  to  a 
very  different  position." 

"Why,  his  father  was  nothing  but  a  fish  merchant  who 
went  bankrupt." 

"  But  out  in  Norway  merchants  rank  much  more  highly 
than  with  us.  Besides,  the  Falcks  are  of  a  very  old 
family. " 

"  Well,  really  I  never  expected  to  hear  such  a  radical  as 
you  speak  up  for  old  family  and  all  that  nonsense,"  said 
James  Horner.  "But  I  see  you  are  determined  to  befriend 
this  fellow,  so  it's  no  good  my  saying  anything  against  it. 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  127 

I  hope  you  may  find  him  all  you  expect.  For  my  part  I 
consider  him  a  most  unpromising  young  man  ;  there's  an 
aggressiveness  about  his  face  and  bearing  that  I  don't  like 
at  all.  A  dangerous,  headstrong  sort  of  character,  and 
not  in  the  least  fit  for  the  position  you  have  given  him." 

With  which  sweeping  condemnation  Mr.  Horner  left 
the  room,  and  Roy,  who  had  kept  a  politic  silence  through- 
out the  scene,  threw  down  his  pen  and  went  into  a  sub- 
dued tit  of  laughter. 

' '  You  should  see  them  together,  father,  it's  as  good  as 
a  play,"  he  exclaimed.  "  Falck  puts  on  his  grand  air  and 
is  crushingly  polite  the  moment  Cousin  James  puts  in  aii 
appearance,  and  that  nettles  him  and  he  becomes  more 
and  more  vulgar  and  fussy,  and  so  they  go  poking  each 
other  up  worse  and  worse  every  minute." 

"  It's  very  foolish  of  Falck,"  said  Mr.  Boniface.  "  If  he 
means  to  get  on  in  life,  he  will  have  to  learn  the  art  of  ris- 
ing above  such  paltry  annoyances  as  airs  of  patronage 
and  manners  that  jar  on  him." 

Meanwhile,  down  below  in  the  shop,  Frithiof  had  for- 
gotten his  last  encounter  with  James  Horner,  and,  as  he 
set  things  in  order  for  the  Saturday  afternoon  closing,  his 
thoughts  were  far  away.  He  sorted  music,  and  took 
down  one  portfolio  after  another  mechanically,  while  all 
the  time  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  was  wandering  with 
Blanche  through  the  sweet-scented  pine-woods,  hearing 
her  fresh,  clear  voice,  looking  into  the  lovely  eyes  which 
had  stolen  his  heart.  The  instant  two  o'clock  sounded 
the  hour  of  his  release,  he  snatched  up  his  hat  and  hurried 
away  ;  his  dreams  of  the  past  had  taken  so  strong  a  hold 
upon  him  that  he  felt  he  must  try  for  at  least  one  more 
sight  of  the  face  that  haunted  him  so  persistently. 

He  had  touched  no  food  since  early  morning,  but  he 
could  no  more  have  eaten  at  that  moment  than  have 
turned  aside  in  some  other  direction.  Feeling  as  though 
some  power  outside  himself  were  drawing  him  onward, 
he  followed  with  scarcely  a  thought  of  the  actual  way, 
until  he  found  himself  within  sight  of  the  Lancaster  Gate 
House.  A  striped  red  and  white  awning  had  been  erected 
over  the  steps  ;  he  caught  sight  of  it  through  the  trees, 
and  his  heart  seemed  to  stand  still.  Hastily  crossing  the 
wide  road  leading  to  the  church,  he  gained  a  better  view 
of  the  pavement  in  front  of  Mr.  Morgan's  house  ;  dirty 
little  street  children  with  eager  faces  were  clustered  about 


128  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

the  railings,  and  nursemaids  with  perambulators  flanked 
the  red  felt  which  made  a  pathway  to  the  carriage  stand- 
ing before  the  door.  He  turned  sick  and  giddy. 

"Fine  doings  there,  sir,"  remarked  the  crossing- 
sweeper,  who  was  still  sweeping  up  the  autumn  leaves 
just  as  he  had  been  doing  when  Frithiof  had  passed  him 
after  his  interview  with  Blanche.  "They  say  the  bride's 
an  heiress  and  a  beauty  too.  Well  !  well !  it's  an  unequal 
world  !  "  and  the  old  man  stopped  to  indulge  in  a  par- 
oxysm of  coughing,  then  held  out  a  trembling  hand. 

"Got  a  copper  about  you,  sir?  "  he  asked. 

Frithiof,  just  because  the  old  man  made  that  remark 
about  an  unequal  world,  dropped  a  sixpence  into  the  out- 
stretched palm. 

"God  bless  you,  sir  !  "  said  the  crossing-sweeper  begin- 
ning to  sweep  up  the  fallen  leaves  with  more  spirit  than 
ever. 

"Violets,  sir,  sweet  violets  !  "  cried  a  girl,  whose  eye 
had  caught  the  gleam  of  the  silver  coin. 

She  held  the  basket  toward  him,  but  he  shook  his  head 
and  walked  hurriedly  away  toward  the  church.  Yet  the  in- 
cident never  left  his  memory,  and  to  the  end  of  his  life  the 
scent  of  violets  was  hateful  to  him.  Like  one  in  a  night- 
mare, he  reached  the  church-door.  The  organ  was  crash- 
ing out  a  jubilant  march  ;  there  was  a  sort  of  subdued  hum 
of  eager  anticipation  from  the  crowd  of  spectators. 

"Are  you  a  friend  of  the  bride,  sir?  "  asked  an  official. 

"No,"  he  said,  icily. 

"  Then  the  side  aisle,  if  you  please,  sir.  The  middle 
aisle  is  reserved  for  friends  only." 

He  quietly  took  the  place  assigned  him  and  waited.  It 
did  not  seem  real  to  him,  the  crowded  church,  the  whis- 
pering people  ;  all  that  seemed  real  was  the  horrible  sense 
of  expectation. 

"  Oh,  it  will  be  well  worth  seeing,"  remarked  a  woman 
who  sat  beside  him  to  her  companion.  "They  always 
manages  things  well  in  this  place.  The  last  time  I  come 
it  was  to  see  Lady  Graham's  funeral.  Lor  !  it  was  jest 
beautiful !  After  all,  there  ain't  nothing  that  comes  up  to 
a  real  good  funeral.  It's  so  movin'  to  the  feelin's,  ain't 
it?" 

An  icy  numbness  crept  over  him,  a  most  appalling  feel- 
ing of  isolation.  "This  is  like  dying,"  he  thought  to  him- 
gelf,  And  then,  because  the  congregation  stood  up,  he 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  129 

too  dragged  himself  to  his  feet.  The  march  had  changed 
to  a  hymn.  White-robed  choristers  walked  slowly  up  the 
middle  aisle ;  their  words  reached  him  distinctly — 

"  Still  in  the  pure  espousal, 
Of  Christian  man  and  maid." 

Then  suddenly  he  caught  sight  of  the  face  which  had 
more  than  once  been  pressed  to  his,  of  the  eyes  which  had 
lured  him  on  so  cruelly.  It  was  only  for  a  moment. 
She  passed  by  with  her  attendant  bridesmaids,  and  black 
darkness  seemed  to  fall  upon  him,  though  he  stood  there 
outwardly  calm,  just  like  an  indifferent  spectator. 

"  Did  you  see  her?  "  exclaimed  his  neighbor.  "My  ! 
ain't  she  jest  pretty  !  Satin  dress,  ain't  it  ?" 

"No,  bless  your  heart!  not  satin,"  replied  the  other. 
" 'Twas  brocade,  and  a  guinea  a  yard,  I  shouldn't  won- 
der. " 

Yet  through  all  the  whispering  and  the  subdued  noise 
of  the  great  congregation  he  could  hear  Blanche's  clear 
voice.  "I  will  always  trust  you,"  she  had  said  to  him  on 
Munkeggen.  Now  he  heard  her  answer  ' '  I  will "  to  another 
question. 

After  that,  prayers  and  hymns  seemed  all  mixed  up  in 
a  wild  confusion.  Now  and  then,  between  the  heads  of 
the  crowd,  he  caught  a  vision  of  a  slim,  white-robed  figure, 
and  presently  Mendelssohn's  "Wedding  March"  was 
struck  up,  and  he  knew  that  she  would  pass  down  the  aisle 
once  more.  Would  her  face  be  turned  in  his  direction  ? 
Yes  ;  for  a  little  child  scattered  flowers  before  her,  and 
she  glanced  round  at  it  with  a  happy,  satisfied  smile.  As  for 
Frithiof,  he  just  stood  there  passively,  and  no  one  watch- 
ing him  could  have  known  of  the  fierce  anguish  that  wrung 
his  heart.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  nobody  observed  him  at 
all  ;  he  was  a  mere  unit  in  the  crowd  ;  and,  with  human 
"beings  all  round  him,  yet  in  absolute  loneliness,  he 
passed  out  of  the  church  into  the  chill  autumnal  air, 
to— 

"  Take  up  his  burden  of  life  again, 
Saying  only,  '  It  might  have  been.'  " 


130  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  cemetery  just  outside  the  Stadsport  at  Bergen, 
which  had  called  forth  the  eager  admiration  of  Blanche 
Morgan  in  the  previous  summer,  looked  perhaps  even 
lovelier  now  that  winter  had  come  with  its  soft,  white 
shroud.  The  trees,  instead  of  their  green  leaves,  stretched 
out  rime-laden  branches  against  the  clear,  frosty  sky  ;  the 
crosses  on  the  graves  were  fringed  with  icicles,  which, 
touched  here  and  there  by  the  level  rays  of  the  setting 
sun,  shone  ruby  red,  or  in  the  shade  gleamed  clear  as 
diamonds  against  the  background  of  crisp  white  snow. 
Away  in  the  distance  Ulriken  reared  his  grand  old  head 
majestically,  a  dark  streak  of  precipitous  rock  showing 
out  now  and  then  through  the  veil  which  hid  his  summer 
face  ;  and  to  the  right,  in  the  valley,  the  pretty  Lunge- 
gaarsvand  was  one  great  sheet  of  ice,  over  which  skaters 
glided  merrily. 

The  body  of  Sigurd  Falck  rested  beside  that  of  his  wife 
in  the  midst  of  all  this  loveliness,  and  one  winter  afternoon 
Sigrid  and  little  Swanhild  came  to  bring  to  the  grave  their 
wreaths  and  crosses,  for  it  was  their  father's  birthday. 
They  had  walked  from  their  uncle's  house  laden  with  all 
the  flowers  they  had  been  able  to  collect,  and  now  stood 
at  the  gate  of  the  cemetery,  which  opened  stiffly  owing  to 
the  frost.  Sigrid  looked  older  and  even  sadder  than  she 
had  done  in  the  first  shock  of  her  father's  death,  but  little 
Swanhild  had  just  the  same  fair  rosy  face  as  before,  and 
there  was  a  veiled  excitement  and  eagerness  in  her  manner 
as  she  pushed  at  the  cemetery  gate  ;  she  was  able  to  take 
a  sort  of  pleasure  in  bringing  these  birthday  gifts,  and 
even  had  in  her  heart  a  keen  satisfaction  in  the  certainty 
that  "their  grave"  would  look  prettier  than  any  of  the 
others. 

"  No  one  else  has  remembered  his  birthday,"  she  said, 
as  they  entered  the  silent  graveyard.  "See,  the  snow  is 
quite  untrodden.  Sigrid,  when  are  they  going  to  put 
father's  name  on  the  stone  ? "  and  she  pointed  to  the  slant- 
ing marble  slab  which  leaned  against  the  small  cross. 
"There  is  only  mother's  name  still.  Won't  they  put  a 
bigger  slab  instead  where  there  will  be  room  for  both  I " 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  131 

"Not  now,"  said  Sigrid,  her  voice  trembling. 

"But  why  not,  Sigrid?  Every  one  else  has  names  put. 
It  seems  as  if  we  had  forgotten  him." 

"Oh,  no,  no,"  said  Sigrid,  with  a  sob.  "It  isn't  that, 
darling  ;  it  is  that  we  remember  so  well,  and  know  what 
he  would  have  wished  about  it." 

"I  don't  understand,"  said  the  child  wistfully. 

"It  is  in  this  way,"  said  Sigrid,  taking  her  hand 
tenderly.  "I  cannot  have  money  spent  on  the  tomb- 
stone, because  he  would  not  have  liked  it.  Oh,  Swan- 
hild  ! — you  must  know  it  some  day,  you  shall  hear  it  now 
— it  was  not  only  his  own  money  that  was  lost,  it  was  the 
money  of  other  people.  And  till  it  is  paid  back  how  can 
I  alter  this  ? " 

Swanhild's  eyes  grew  large  and  bright. 

"It  was  that,  then,  that  made  him  die,"  she  faltered. 
"  He  would  be  so  sorry  for  the  other  people.  Oh,  Sigrid, 
I  will  be  so  good  ;  I  don't  think  I  shall  ever  be  naughty 
again.  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  before,  and  then  I  shouldn't 
have  been  cross  because  you  wouldn't  buy  me  things  ?  " 

"  I  wanted  to  shield  you  and  keep  you  from  knowing," 
said  Sigrid.  "But  after  all,  it  is  better  that  you  should 
hear  it  from  me  than  from  some  outsider." 

"You  will  treat  me  like  a  baby,  Sigrid,  and  I  am  ten 
years  old  after  all — quite  old  enough  to  be  told  things 
....  And  oh,  you'll  let  me  help  to  earn  money  and  pay 
back  the  people,  won't  you  ? " 

"That  is  what  Frithiof  is  trying  to  do,"  said  Sigrid, 
"but  it  is  so  difficult  and  so  slow.  And  I  can't  think  of 
anything  we  can  do  to  help." 

"Poor  dear  old  Frithiof,"  said  Swanhild.  And  she 
gazed  away  over  the  frozen  lake  to  the  snow  mountains 
which  bounded  the  view,  as  if  she  would  like  to  see  right 
through  them  into  the  big  London  shop  where,  behind  a 
counter,  there  stood  a  fair-haired  Norseman  toiling  bravely 
to  pay  off  those  debts  of  which  she  had  just  heard. 
"Why,  on  father's  last  two  birthdays  Frithiof  was  away 
in  Germany,  but  then  we  were  looking  forward  so  to 
having  him  home  again.  There's  nothing  to  look  for- 
ward to  now." 

Sigrid  could  not  reply,  for  she  felt  choked.  She  stood 
sadly  watching  the  child  as  she  bent  down,  partly  to  hide 
'her  tears,  partly  to  place  a  flower  which  had  slipped  out  of 
one  of  the  wreaths.  It  was  just  that  sense  of  having 


132  A  HARD  Y  NORSEMAN. 

nothing  to  look  forward  to  which  had  weighed  so  heavy 
on  Sigrid  herself  all  these  months  ;  she  had  passed  very 
bravely  through  all  the  troubles  as  long  as  the  rehad 
been  anything  to  do  ;  but  now  that  all  the  arrange- 
ments were  made,  the  villa  in  Kalvedalen  sold,  the  furni- 
ture disposed  of,  the  new  home  in  her  uncle's  house 
grown  familiar,  her  courage  almost  failed  her,  and  each 
day  she  realized  more  bitterly  how  desolate  and  forlorn 
was  their  position.  The  first  sympathetic  kindness  of  her 
aunt  and  cousins  had,  moreover,  had  time  to  fade  a  little, 
and  she  became  growingly  conscious  that  their  adoption 
into  the  Gonvold  family  was  an  inconvenience.  The 
house  was  comfortable  but  not  too  large,  and  the  two  sisters 
occupied  the  only  spare  room,  so  that  it  was  no  longer 
possible  to  have  visitors.  The  income  was  fairly  good,  but 
times  were  hard,  and  even  before  their  arrival  Fru  Gron- 
vold  had  begun  to  practice  a  few  little  economies,  which 
increased  during  the  winter,  and  became  more  apparent 
to  all  the  family.  This  was  depressing  enough ;  and 
then,  as  Swanhild  had  said,  there  was  nothing  to  which 
she  could  look  forward,  for  Frithiof  s  prospects  seemed  to 
her  altogether  blighted,  and  she  foresaw  that  all  he  was 
likely  to  earn  for  some  time  to  come  would  only  suffice  to 
keep  himself,  and  could  by  no  possibility  support  three 
people.  Very  sadly  she  left  the  cemetery,  pausing  again 
to  struggle  with  the  stiff  gate,  while  Swanhild  held  the 
empty  flower-baskets. 

"Can't  you  do  it ?"  exclaimed  the  child.  "What  a 
tiresome  gate  it  is  !  worse  to  fasten  than  to  unfasten. 
But  see  !  here  come  the  Lundgrens.  They  will  help." 

Sigrid  glanced  round,  blushing  vividly  as  she  met  the 
eager  eyes  of  Torvald  Lundgren,  one  of  Frithiof  s  school 
friends.  The  greetings  were  frank  and  friendly  on  both 
sides,  and  Madale,  a  tall,  pretty  girl  of  sixteen,  with  her 
hair  braided  into  one  long,  thick  plait,  took  little  Swan- 
hild's  arm  and  walked  on  with  her. 

"  Let  us  leave  those  two  to  settle  the  gate  between 
them,"  she  said  smiling.  "It  is  far  too  cold  to  wait  for 
them." 

Now  Torvald  Lundgren  was  a  year  or  two  older  than 
Frithiof,  and  having  long  been  in  a  position  of  authority 
he  was  unusually  old  for  his  age.  As  a  friend  Sigrid  liked 
him,  but  of  late  she  had  half  feared  that  he  wished  to  bo 
more  than  a  friend,  and  consequently  she  was  not  well 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  133 

pleased  to  see  that,  by  the  time  the  gate  was  actually 
shut,  Madale  and  Swanhild  were  far  in  advance  of 
them. 

"Have  you  heard  from  Frithiof  yet  ?  "  she  asked,  walk- 
ing on  briskly. 

"No,"  said  Torvald.  "Pray  scold  him  well  for  me 
when  you  next  write.  How  does  he  seem  ?  In  better 
spirits  again  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Sigrid,  "even  tome  he  writes 
very  seldom.  It  is  wretched  having  him  so  far  away  and 
not  knowing  what  is  happening  to  him." 

"  I  wish  there  was  anything  I  could  do  for  him,"  said 
Torvald,  "but  there  seems  no  chance  of  any  opening  out 
here  for  him. " 

"That  is  what  my  uncle  says.  Yet  it  was  no  fault  of 
Frithiof s,  it  seems  hard  that  he  should  have  to  suffer. 
I  think  the  world  is  very  cruel.  You  and  Madale 
were  almost  the  only  friends  who  stood  by  us  ;  you  were 
almost  the  only  ones  who  scattered  fir  branches  in  the 
road  on  the  morning  of  my  father's  funeral." 

"  You  noticed  that  ?  "  he  said  coloring. 

' '  Yes  ;  when  I  saw  how  little  had  been  strewed,  I  felt 
hurt  and  sore  to  think  that  the  others  had  shown  so  little 
respect  for  him,  and  grateful  to  you  and  Madale. " 

"Sigrid,"  he  said  quietly,  "why  will  you  not  let  me  be 
something  more  to  you  than  a  friend  ?  All  that  I  have  is 
yours.  You  are  not  happy  in  Herr  Gron void's  house. 
Let  me  take  care  of  you.  Come  and  make  my  house 
happy,  and  bring  Swanhild  with  you  to  be  my  little 
sister. " 

"Oh,  Torvald  !  "  she  cried,  "  I  wish  you  had  not  asked 
me  that.  You  are  so  good  and  kind,  but — but " 

"  Do  not  answer  me  just  yet,  then  ;  take  time  to  think 
it  over, "  he  pleaded  ;  ' '  indeed  I  would  do  my  best  to  make 
you  very  happy." 

"I  know  you  would,"  she  replied,  her  eyes  filling  with 
tears.  "But  yet  it  could  never  be.  I  could  never  love 
you  as  a  wife  should  love  her  husband,  and  I  am  much 
too  fond  of  you,  Torvald,  to  let  you  be  married  just  for 
your  comfortable  house." 

"Your  aunt  led  me  to  expect  that,  perhaps,  in  time, 
after  your  first  grief  had  passed " 

"Then  it  was  very  wrong  of  her,"  said  Sigrid  hotly. 
"You  have  always  been  my  friend — a  sort  of  second 


134  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

brother  to  me — and  oh,  do  let  it  be  so  still.  Don't  leave 
off  being  my  friend  because  of  this,  for  indeed  I  cannot 
help  it." 

''My  only  wish  is  to  help  you,  "he  said  sadly  ;  "it  shall 
be  as  you  would  have  it." 

And  then  they  walked  on  together  in  an  uncomfortable 
silence  until  they  overtook  the  others  at  Herr  Gronvold's 
gate,  where  Torvald  grasped  her  hand  for  a  moment, 
then,  looking  at  his  watch,  hurried  Madale  away,  saying 
that  he  should  be  late  for  some  appointment. 

Fru  Gronvold  had  unluckily  been  looking  out  of  the 
window  and  had  seen  the  little  group  outside.  She 
opened  the  front  door  as  the  two  girls  climbed  the  steps. 

"Why  did  not  the  Lundgrens  come  in?''  she  asked,  a 
look  of  annoyance  passing  over  her  thin  worn  face. 

"  I  didn't  ask  them  ?  "  said  Sigrid  "  lushing. 

"Audi  think  Torvald  had  some  engagement,"  said 
Swanhild,  unconsciously  coming  to  the  rescue. 

"  You  have  been  out  a  long  time,  Swanhild,  now  run 
away  to  your  practicing,"  said  Fru  Gronvold,  in  the  tone 
which  the  child  detested.  "  Come  in  here,  Sigrid,  I  want 
a  word  with  you." 

Fru  Gronvold  had  the  best  of  hearts,  but  her  manner 
was  unfortunate  ;  from  sheer  anxiety  to  do  well  by  people 
she  often  repulsed  them.  To  Sigrid,  accustomed  from 
her  earliest  girlhood  to  come  and  go  as  she  pleased  and 
to  manage  her  father's  house,  this  manner  was  almost  in- 
tolerable. She  resented  interference  most  strongly,  and 
was  far  too  young  and  inexperienced  to  see,  beneath  her 
aunt's  dictatorial  tone,  the  real  kindness  that  existed. 
Her  blue  eyes  looked  defiant  as  she  marched  into  the  sit- 
ting-room, and  drawing  off  her  gloves  began  to  warm  her 
hands  by  the  stove. 

"  Why  did  you  not  ask  Torvald  Lundgren  to  come  in  ?  " 
asked  Fru  Gronvold,  taking  up  her  knitting. 

"  Because  I  didn't  want  to  ask  him,  auntie." 

"But  you  ought  to  think  what  other  people  want,  not 
always  of  yourself." 

"  I  did,"  said  Sigrid  quickly.  "  I  knew  he  didn't  want 
to  come  in." 

"What  nonsense  you  talk,  child  !  "  said  Fru  Gronvold, 
knitting  with  more  vigor  than  before,  as  if  she  vented  her 
impatience  upon  the  sock  she  was  making.  "You  must 
know  quite  well  that  Torvald  admires  you  very  much ;  it 


A  HARD  Y  NORSEMAN:  \ 3 5 

is  mere  affectation  to  pretend  not  to  see  what  is  patent  to 
all  the  world." 

"I  do  not  pretend,"  said  Sigrid  angrily,  "but  you — 
you  have  encouraged  him  to  hope,  and  it  is  unfair  and  un- 
kind of  you.  He  told  me  you  had  spoken  to  him." 

"What !  he  has  proposed  to  you?  "  said  Fru  Gronvold, 
dropping  her  work.  "Did  he  speak  to  you  to-day, 
dear  ? " 

"Yes,"  said  Sigrid,  blushing  crimson. 

"And  you  said  you  would  let  him  have  his  answer 
later  on.  I  see,  dear,  I  see.  Of  course  you  could  not 
ask  him  in." 

"I  said  nothing  of  the  sort,"  said  Sigrid  vehemently. 
"I  told  him  that  I  could  never  think  of  marrying  him,  and 
we  shall  still  be  the  good  friends  we  have  always  been." 

"  My  dear  child,"  cried  Fru  Gronvold,  with  genuine  dis- 
tress in  her  tone,  "  how  could  you  be  so  foolish,  so  blind 
to  all  your  own  interests  ?  He  is  a  most  excellent  fellow, 
good  and  steady  and  rich — all  that  heart  could  wish." 

"There,  I  don't  agree  with  you,"  said  Sigrid  perversely. 
"I  should  wish  my  husband  to  be  very  different.  He  is 
just  like  Torvald  in  Ibsen's  Etl  Dukkehjem,  we  always 
told  him  so." 

"Pray  don't  quote  that  hateful  play  to  me,"  said  Fru 
Gronvold.  "  Every  one  knows  that  Ibsen's  foolish  ideas 
about  women  being  equal  to  men  and  sharing  their  confi- 
dence, could  only  bring  misery  and  mischief.  Torvald 
Lundgren  is  a  good,  upright,  honorable  man,  and  your 
refusing  him  is  most  foolish." 

"  He  is  very  good,  I  quite  admit,"  said  Sigrid.  "He is 
my  friend,  and  has  been  always,  and  will  be  always. 
But  if  he  was  the  only  man  on  earth  nothing  would  induce 
me  to  marry  him.  It  would  only  mean  wretchedness  for 
us  both." 

"Well,  pray  don't  put  your  foolish  notions  about 
equality  and  ideal  love  into  Karen's  head,"  said  Fru  Gron- 
vold sharply.  "Since  you  are  so  stupid  and  unpractical 
it  would  be  well  that  Karen  should  accept  the  first  good 
offer  she  receives." 

"We  are  not  likely  to  discuss  the  matter,"  said  Sigrid, 
and  rising  to  her  feet  she  hurriedly  left  the  room. 

Upstairs  she  ran  choking  with  angry  tears,  her  aunt's 
last  words  haunting  her  persistently  and  inflicting  deeper 
wounds  the  more  she  dwelt  upon  them. 


136  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

"She  wants  me  to  marry  him  so  that  she  may  be  rid 
of  the  expense  of  keeping  us,"  thought  the  poor  girl. 
"She  doesn't  really  care  for  us  a  bit,  for  all  the  time  she  is 
grudging  the  money  we  cost  her.  But  I  won't  be  such  a 
bad  friend  to  poor  Torvald  as  to  marry  him  because  I  am 
miserable  here.  I  would  rather  starve  than  do  that. 
Oh  !  how  I  hate  her  maxims  about  taking  what  you  can 
get !  Why  should  love  and  equality  and  a  true  union 
lead  to  misery  and  mischief?  It  is  the  injustice  of 
lowering  woman  into  a  mere  pleasant  housekeeper  that 
brings  half  the  pain  of  the  world,  it  seems  to  me." 

But  by  the  time  Sigrid  had  lived  through  the  long  even- 
ing, bearing  as  best  she  might  the  consciousness  of  her 
aunt's  disappointment  and  vexation  with  her,  another 
thought  had  begun  to  stir  in  her  heart.  And  when  that 
night  she  went  to  her  room  her  tears  were  no  longer  the 
tears  of  anger,  but  of  a  miserable  loneliness  and  desolation. 

She  looked  at  little  Swanhild  lying  fast  asleep,  and 
wondered  how  the  refusal  would  affect  her  life. 

"After  all,"  she  thought  to  herself,  "Swanhild  would 
have  been  happier  had  I  accepted  him.  She  would  have 
had  a  much  nicer  home,  and  Torvald  would  never  have  let 
her  feel  that  she  was  a  burden.  He  would  have  been 
very  kind  to  us  both,  and  I  suppose  I  might  have  made 
him  happy — as  happy  as  he  would  ever  have  expected  to 
be.  And  I  might  have  been  able  to  help  Frithiof,  for  we 
should  have  been  rich.  Perhaps  I  am  losing  this  chance 
of  what  would  be  best  for  every  one  else  just  for  a  fancy. 
Oh,  what  am  I  to  do  ?  After  all  he  would  have  been  very 
kind,  and  here  they  are  not  really  kind.  He  would  have 
taken  such  care  of  me  and  it  would  surely  be  very  nice 
to  be  taken  care  of  again. " 

And  then  she  began  to  think  of  her  aunt's  words,  and 
to  wonder  whether  there  might  not  be  some  truth  in  them, 
so  that  by  the  time  the  next  day  had  dawned  she  had 
worried  herself  into  a  state  of  confusion,  and  had  Torvald 
Lundgren  approached  her  again  might  really  have  accept- 
ed him  from  some  puzzle-headed  notion  of  the  duty  of 
being  practical  and  always  considering  others  before 
yourself.  Fortunately  Torvald  did  not  appear,  and  later 
in  the  morning  she  took  her  perplexities  to  dear  old  Fru 
Askevold,  the  pastor's  wife  who  having  worked  early  and 
late  for  her  ten  children,  now  toiled  for  as  many  grand- 
children, and  into  the  bargain  was  ready  to  be  the  friend 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN:  137 

of  any  girl  who  chose  to  seek  her  out.  In  spite  of  her  sixty 
years  she  had  a  bright,  fresh-colored  face,  with  a  look  of 
youth  about  it  which  contrasted  curiously  with  her  snowy 
hair.  She  was  little  and  plump  and  had  a  brisk,  cheerful 
way  of  moving  about  which  somehow  recalled  to  one — 

"  The  bird  that  comes  about  our  doors 

When  autumn  winds  are  sobbing, 

The  Peter  of  Norway  boors 

Their  Thomas  in  Finland, 
And  Russia  far  inland. 
The  bird,  who  by  some  name  or  other, 
All  men  who  know  it  call  their  brother." 

"Now  that  is  charming  of  you  to  come  and  see  me 
just  at  the  very  right  minute,  Sigrid,"  said  Fru  Askevold, 
kissing  the  girl,  wrhose  face,  owing  to  trouble  and  sleep- 
lessness, looked  more  worn  than  her  own.  "I've  just 
been  cutting  out  Ingeborg's  new  frock,  and  am  wanting 
to  sit  down  and  rest  a  little.  What  do  you  think  of  the 
color  ?  Pretty  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Charming,"  said  Sigrid.  "  Let  me  do  the  tacking  for 
you. " 

"No,  no  ;  you  look  tired,  my  child,  sit  down  there  by 
the  stove,  and  I  will  tack  it  together  as  we  chat.  What 
makes  those  dark  patches  beneath  your  eyes?" 

"Oh,  it  is  nothing.  I  could  not  sleep  last  night,  that 
is  all." 

"Because  you  were  worrying  over  something.  That 
does  not  pay,  child  ;  give  it  up.  It's  a  bad  habit." 

"  I  don't  think  I  can  help  it,"  said  Sigrid.  "  We  all  of 
us  have  a  natural  tendency  that  way.  Don't  you  remem- 
ber how  Frithiof  never  could  sleep  before  an  examina- 
tion ? " 

"And  you  perhaps  were  worrying  your  brain  about 
him  ?  Was  that  it  ?  " 

"Partly,"  said  Sigrid,  looking  down  and  speaking 
nervously.  "You  see  it  was  in  this  way — I  had  a  chance 
of  becoming  rich  and  well-to-do,  of  stepping  into  a  posi- 
tion which  would  have  made  me  able  to  help  the  others, 
and  because  it  did  not  come  up  to  my  own  notion  of  hap- 
piness I  threw  away  the  chance." 

And  so  little  by  little  and  mentioning  no  name,  she  put 
before  the  motherly  old  lady  all  the  facts  of  the  case. 

"Child,"  said  Fru  Askevold,  "  I  have  only  one  piece 
of  advice  to  give  you — be  true  to  your  own  ideal." 


138  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

"But  then  one's  own  ideal  may  be  unattainable  in  this 
world. " 

"Perhaps,  and  if  so  it  can't  be  helped.  But  if  you 
mean  your  marriage  to  be  a  happy  one,  then  be  true. 
Half  the  unhappy  marriages  come  from  people  stooping 
to  take  just  what  they  can  get.  If  you  accepted  this  man's 
offer  you  might  be  wronging  some  girl  who  is  really 
capable  of  loving  him  properly." 

"Then  you  mean  that  some  of  us  have  higher  ideals 
than  others  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes,  to  be  sure  ;  it  is  the  same  in  this  as  in 
everything  else,  and  what  you  have  to  do  is  to  shut  your 
ears  to  all  the  well-meaning  but  false  maxims  of  the  world, 
and  listen  to  the  voice  in  your  own  heart.  Depend  upon 
it  you  will  be  able  to  do  far  more  for  Frithiof  and  Swanhild 
if  you  are  true  to  yourself,  than  you  would  be  able  to  do 
as  a  rich  woman  and  an  unhappy  wife." 

Sigrid  was  silent  for  some  minutes. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said  at  length.  "  I  see  things  much 
more  clearly  now  ;  last  night  I  could  only  see  things 
through  Aunt  Gronvold's  spectacles,  and  I  think  they 
must  be  very  short-sighted  ones." 

Fru  Askevold  laughed  merrily. 

"That  is  quite  true,"  she  said.  "The  marriages 
brought  about  by  scheming  relatives  may  look  promising 
enough  at  first,  but  in  the  long  run  they  always  bring 
trouble  and  misery.  The  true  marriages  are  made  in 
heaven,  Sigrid,  though  folks  are  slow  to  believe  that." 

Sigrid  went  away  comforted,  yet  nevertheless  life  was 
not  very  pleasant  to  her  just  then,  for  although  she  had 
the  satisfaction  of  seeing  Torvold  walking  the  streets  of 
Bergen  without  any  signs  of  great  dejection  in  his  face, 
she  had  all  day  long  to  endure  the  consciousness  of  her 
aunt's  vexation,  and  to  feel  in  every  little  economy  that 
this  need  not  have  been  practiced  had  she  decided  as  Fru 
Gronvold  wished.  It  was  on  the  whole  a  very  dreary 
Christmas,  yet  the  sadness  was  brightened  by  one  little 
act  of  kindness  and  courtesy  which  to  the  end  of  her  life 
she  never  forgot.  For  after  all  it  is  that  which  is  rare  that 
makes  a  deep  impression  on  us.  The  word  of  praise 
spoken  at  the  beginning  of  our  career  lingers  forever  in 
our  hearts  with  something  of  the  glow  of  encouragement 
and  hopefulness  which  it  first  kindled  there;  while  the 
applause  of  later  years  glides  off  us  like  water  off  a  duck's 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN1.  139 

back.  The  little  bit  of  kindness  shown  in  days  of  trouble 
is  remembered  when  greater  kindness  during  days  of  pros- 
perity has  been  forgotten. 

It  was  Christmas-eve.  Sigrid  sat  in  her  cold  bedroom, 
wrapped  round  in  eider-down  quilt.  She  was  reading 
over  again  the  letter  she  had  last  received  from  Frithiof, 
just  one  of  those  short  unsatisfying  letters  which  of  late 
he  had  sent  her.  From  Germany  he  had  written  amusing- 
ly enough,  but  these  London  letters  often  left  her  more  un- 
happy than  they  found  her,  not  so  much  from  anything 
they  said  as  from  what  they  left  unsaid.  Since  last  Christ- 
mas all  had  been  taken  away  from  her,  and  now  it 
seemed  to  her  that  even  Frithiofs  love  was  growing  cold, 
and  her  tears  fell  fast  on  the  thin  little  sheet  of  paper 
where  she  had  tried  so  hard  to  read  love  and  hope  between 
the  lines,  and  had  tried  in  vain. 

A  knock  at  the  door  made  her  dry  her  eyes  hastily, 
and  she  was  relieved  to  find  that  it  was  not  her  Cousin 
Karen  who  entered,  but  Swanhild,  with  a  sunny  face 
and  blue  eyes  dancing  with  excitement. 

"Look,  Sigrid,"  she  cried,  "here  is  a  parcel  which 
looks  exactly  like  a  present.  Do  make  haste  and  open 
it." 

They  cut  the  string  and  folded  back  the  paper,  Sigrid 
giving  a  little  cry  of  surprise  as  she  saw  before  her  the 
water-color  sketch  of  Bergen,  which  had  been  her  father's 
last  present  to  her  on  the  day  before  his  death.  Unable 
to  pay  for  it,  she  had  asked  the  proprietor  of  the  shop  to 
take  it  back  again,  and  had  been  relieved  by  his  ready 
consent.  Glancing  quickly  at  the  accompanying  note  she 
saw  that  it  bore  his  signature.  It  ran  as  follows  : 

"  MADAM, — Will  you  do  me  the  honor  of  accepting  the 
water-color  sketch  of  Bergen  chosen  by  the  late  Herr 
Falck  in  October.  At  your  wish  I  took  back  the  picture 
then  and  regarded  the  purchase  as  though  it  had  never 
been  made.  I  now  ask  you  to  receive  it  as  a  Christmas 
gift  and  a  slight  token  of  my  respect  for  the  memory  of 
your  father,"  etc.,  etc. 

"Oh!"  cried  Sigrid,  "isn't  that  good  of  him!  And 
how  nice  of  him  to  wait  for  Christmas  instead  of  sending 
it  straight  back.  Now  I  shall  have  something  to  send  to 
Frithiof.  It  will  get  to  him  in  time  for  the  new  year." 

Swanhild  clapped  her  hands. 

"What  a  splendid   idea!     I  had  not  thought  of  that. 


1 4 o  A  HARDY 

And  we  shall  have  it  up  here  just  for  Christmas  day. 
How  pretty  it  is  !  People  are  very  kind,  I  think  !  " 

And  Sigrid  felt  the  little  clinging  arm  round  her  waist, 
and  as  they  looked  at  the  picture  together  she  smoothed 
back  the  child's  golden  hair  tenderly. 

"Yes,  "she  said  smiling,  "after  all,  people  are  very 
kind. " 


CHAPTER    XV. 

As  Presten  Askevold  had  feared,  Frithiof  bore  the 
troubles  much  less  easily.  He  was  without  Sigrid's 
sweetness  of  nature,  without  her  patience,  and  the  little 
touch  of  philosophic  matter-of-factness  which  helped  her 
to  endure.  He  was  far  more  sensitive  too,  and  was  ter- 
ribly handicapped  by  the  bitterness  which  was  the  almost 
inevitable  result  of  his  treatment  by  Blanche  Morgan,  a 
bitterness  which  stirred  him  up  into  a  sort  of  contempt- 
uous hatred  of  both  God  and  man.  Sigrid,  with  her 
quiet  common  sense,  her  rarely  expressed  but  very  real 
faith,  struggled  on  through  the  winter  and  the  spring,  and 
in  the  process  managed  to  grow  and  develop ;  but 
Frithiof,  in  his  desolate  London  lodgings,  with  his  sore 
heart  and  rebellious  intellect,  grew  daily  more  hard 
and  morose.  Had  it  not  been  for  the  Bonifaces  he  must 
have  gone  altogether  to  the  bad,  but  the  days  which  he 
spent  every  now  and  then  in  that  quiet,  simple  household, 
where  kindness  reigned  supreme,  saved  him  from  utter 
ruin.  For  always  through  the  darkest  part  of  every  life 
there  runs,  though  we  may  sometimes  fail  to  see  it,  this 
"golden  thread  of  love,"  so  that  even  the  worst  man  on 
earth  is  not  wholly  cut  off  from  God,  since  he  will,  by 
some  means  or  other,  eternally  try  to  draw  him  out  of 
death  into  life.  We  are  astounded  now  and  then  to  read 
that  some  cold-blooded  murderer,  some  man  guilty  of  a 
hideous  crime,  will  ask  in  his  last  moments  to  see  a  child 
who  loved  him  devotedly,  and  whom  he  also  loved.  We 
are  astonished  just  because  we  do  not  understand  the  un- 
tiring heart  of  the  All-Father  who  in  his  goodness  often 
gives  to  the  vilest  sinner  the  love  of  a  pure-hearted 
woman  or  child.  So  true  is  the  beautiful  old  Latin  say- 
ing, long  in  the  world  but  little  believed,  ' '  Mergere  nos 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  141 

patitur,  sed  non  submergere,  Christus "  (Christ  lets  us 
sink  maybe  but  not  drown). 

Just  at  this  time  there  was  only  one  thing  in  which 
Frithiof  found  any  satisfaction,  and  that  was  in  the  little 
store  of  money  which  by  slow  degrees  he  was  able  to 
place  in  the  savings  bank.  In  what  way  it  could  ever 
grow  into  a  sum  large  enough  to  pay  his  father's  creditors 
he  did  not  trouble  himself  to  think,  but  week  by  week  it 
did  increase,  and  with  this  one  aim  in  life  he  struggled  o  , 
working  early  and  late,  and  living  on  an  amount  of  T,od 
which  would  have  horrified  an  Englishman.  Luckily  he 
had  discovered  a  place  in  Oxford  Street  wh. re  he  could 
get  a  good  dinner  every  day  for  sixpence,  but  this  was 
practically  his  only  meal,  and  after  some  months  the 
scanty  fare  began  to  tell  upon  him,  so  that  even  t  e  Miss 
Tumours  noticed  that  something  was  wrong. 

"That  young  man  looks  to  me  underfed, "  -aid  Miss 
Caroline  one  day.  "  I  met  him  on  the  stairs  ,'ust  now, 
and  he  seems  to  me  to  have  grown  paler  and  thinner. 
What  does  he  have  for  breakfast,  Charlotte?  Does  he  eat 
as  well  as  the  other  lodger  ?  " 

"Dear  me,  no,"  said  Miss  Charlotte.  "It's  my  belief 
that  he  eats  nothing  at  all  but  ship's  biscuits.  There'o  a 
tin  of  them  up  in  his  room,  and  a  tin  of  cocoa,  which  he 
makes  for  himself.  All  I  ever  take  him  is  a  jug  of  boiling 
water  night  and  morning  !  " 

"  Poor  fellow  !  "  said  Miss  Caroline,  sighing  a  little  as 
she  plaited  some  lace,  which  must  have  been  washed  a 
hundred  times,  into  her  dress. 

A  delicate  carefulness  in  these  little  details  of  dress  dis- 
tinguished the  three  ladies — they  had  inherited  it  with  the 
spelling  of  their  name  and  other  tokens  of  good  breeding. 

"I  feel  sorry  for  him, "she  added.  "  Healways  bows 
very  politely  when  I  meet  him,  and  he  is  remarkably 
good-looking,  though  with  a  disagreeable  expression." 

"When  one  is  hungry  one  seldom  looks  agreeable," 
said  Miss  Charlotte,  "1  wish  I  had  noticed  him  before," 
and  she  remembered,  with  a  little  pang  of  remorse,  that 
she  had  more  than  once  preached  to  him  about  his  soul, 
while  all  the  time  she  had  been  too  dreamy  and  unobserv- 
ant to  see  what  was  really  wrong  with  him. 

"  Suppose, "  she  said  timidly,  "  suppose  I  were  to  take 
him  a  little  of  the  stewed  American  beef  we  shall  have 
for  supper. " 


142  A   HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

"  Send  it  up  by  the  girl,"  said  Miss  Tumour,  "  she  is  still 
in  the  kitchen.  Don't  take  it  yourself — it  would  be  awk- 
ward for  both  of  you." 

So  Miss  Charlotte  meekly  obeyed,  and  sent  up  by  the 
shabby  servant  girl  a  most  savory  little  supper.  Unluckily 
the  girl  was  a  pert  cockney,  and  her  loud  abrupt  knock  at 
the  door  in  itself  irritated  Frithiof. 

"  Come  in,"  he  said  in  a  surly  tone. 

"  Look  here,"  said  the  girl,  "  here's  something  to  put 
you  in  a  better  temper.  Missus's  compliments,  and  she 
begs  you'll  accept  it,"  and  she  thrust  the  tray  at  him  with  a 
derisive  grin. 

"  Have  the  goodness  to  take  that  down  again,"  said 
Frithiof,  in  a  fit  of  unreasoning  anger.  "  I'll  not  be  treated 
like  your  mistress's  pet  dog." 

Something  in  his  manner  cowed  the  girl.  She  beat  a 
hasty  retreat,  and  was  planning  how  she  could  manage  to 
eat  the  despised  supper  herself,  when  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs  she  met  Miss  Charlotte,  and  her  project  was  nipped 
in  the  bud. 

"It  ain't  no  use,  miss,  'e  won't  touch  it,"  she  explained  ; 
"  'e  was  as  angry  as  could  be,  and  says  'e,  '  Take  it  away  ! 
I'll  not  be  treated  like  your  mistress's  pet  dog,'  says  'e. 
So,  bein'  frightened,  I  ran  down  stairs  agen." 

Miss  Charlotte  looked  troubled,  and  later  on,  when  as 
usual  she  took  up  the  jug  of  hot  water,  she  felt  nervous 
and  uncomfortable,  and  her  knock  was  more  timid  than 
ever.  However,  she  had  scarcely  set  down  the  jug  on  the 
floor  when  there  came  sounds  of  hasty  footsteps  in  the 
room,  and  Frithiof  flung  open  the  door. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said.  "  You  meant  to  be  kind, 
I'm  sure,  but  the  girl  was  rude,  and  I  lost  my  temper.  I 
ask  your  forgiveness." 

There  were  both  pathetic  and  comic  elements  in  the  little 
scene ;  the  meek  Miss  Charlotte  stood  trembling  as  if  she 
had  seen  a  ghost,  and  gazing  up  at  the  tall  Norseman  who, 
in  the  hurry  of  the  moment,  had  forgotten  to  remove  the 
wet  towel  which,  in  common  with  most  night-workers,  he 
was  in  the  habit  of  tying  round  his  forehead. 

Miss  Charlotte  stooped  to  pick  up  the  jug. 

"  I  am  so  sorry  the  girl  was  rude,"  she  said.  "  I  wish  I 
had  brought  it  myself.  You  see,  it  was  in  this  way  :  we 
all  thought  you  looking  so  poorly,  and  we  were  having 


A   HARD  Y  NORSEMAN.  143 

the  beef  for  supper,  and  we  thought  perhaps  you  might 
fancy  some,  and — and — " 

"  It  was  very  good  of  you,"  he  said,  touched  in  spite 
of  himself,  by  the  kindness.  "  I  regret  what  I  said,  but 
you  must  make  allowance  for  a  bad-tempered  man  with  a 
splitting  headache." 

"  Is  that  the  reason  you  tie  it  up  ?  "  asked  Miss  Char- 
lotte. 

He  laughed  and  pulled  off  the  towel,  passing  his  hand 
over  the  mass  of  thick  light  hair  which  it  had  disordered. 

"  It  keeps  it  cooler,"  he  said,  "  and  I  can  get  through 
more  work." 

She  glanced  at  the  table,  and  saw  that  it  was  covered 
with  papers  and  books. 

''  Are  you  wise  to  do  so  much  work  after  being  busy 
all  day  ?  "  she  said.  "  It  seems  to  me  that  you  are  not 
•  looking  well." 

"  It  is  nothing  but  a  headache,"  he  said.  "  And  the 
work  is  the  only  pleasure  I  have  in  the  world." 

"  I  was  afraid  from  your  looks  that  you  had  a  hard  life," 
she  said  hesitatingly. 

"  It  is  not  hard  outwardly.  As  far  as  work  goes  it  is 
easy  enough,  but  there  is  a  deadly  monotony  about  it." 

"  Ah  !  if  only — "  she  began. 

He  interrupted  her. 

"  I  know  quite  well  what  you  are  going  to  say — you 
are  going  to  recommend  me  to  attend  one  of  those  relig- 
ious meetings,  where  people  get  so  full  of  a  delightful  ex- 
citement. Believe  me,  they  would  not  have  the  slightest 
effect  on  me.  And  yet,  if  you  wish  it,  I  will  go.  It  shall 
be  my  sign  of  penitence  for  my  rudeness  just  now." 

Miss  Charlotte  could  not  make  out  whether  his  smile 
was  sarcastic  or  genuine.  However,  she  took  him  at  his 
word,  and  the  next  evening  carried  him  off  to  a  big, 
brightly-lighted  hall  to  a  revivalist  meeting,  from  which 
she  hoped  great  things. 

It  was  a  hot  June  evening.  He  came  there  tired  with 
a  long  day's  work,  and  his  head  felt  dull  and  heavy. 
Merely  out  of  politeness  to  his  companion  he  tried  to  take 
some  sort  of  interest  in  what  went  on,  stifled  his  inclina- 
tion to  laugh  now  and  then,  and  watched  the  proceedings 
attentively,  though  wearily  enough.  In  front  of  him 
rose  a.  large  platform  with  tiers  of  seats  one  above  the 
other.  The  men  and  women  seated  there  had  bright- 


144  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

looking  faces.  Some  looked  self-conscious  and  self-satis- 
fied, several  of  the  women  seemed  overwrought  and  hys- 
terical, but  others  had  a  genuine  look  of  content  which 
impressed  him.  Down  below  was  a  curiously  heteroge- 
neous collection  of  instruments — cornets,  drums,  tam- 
bourines, trumpets,  and  pipes.  A  hymn  was  given  out, 
followed  by  a  chorus ;  the  words  were  solemn,  but  the 
tune  was  the  reverse  ;  still  it  seemed  to  please  the  audi- 
ence, who  sang  three  choruses  to  each  verse,  the  first 
loud,  the  second  louder,  the  third  a  perfect  frenzy  of 
sound,  the  drums  thundering,  the  tambourines  dashing 
about  wildly,  the  pipes  and  cornets  at  their  shrillest,  and 
every  one  present  singing  or  shouting  with  all  his  might. 
It  took  him  some  time  to  recover  from  the  appalling 
noise,  and  meantime  a  woman  was  praying.  He  did 
not  much  attend  to  what  she  said,  but  the  audience  seemed 
to  agree  with  her,  for  every  minute  or  two  there  was  a 
chorus  of  fervent  "  Amens, "  which  rolled  through  the  hall 
like  distant  thunder.  After  that  the  young  man  who  con- 
ducted the  meeting  read  a  story  out  of  the  Bible,  and 
spoke  well  and  with  a  sort  of  simple  directness.  There 
was  very  little  in  what  he  said,  but  he  meant  every  word 
of  it.  It  might  have  been  summed  up  in  three  sentences  : 
"There  is  only  one  way  of  being  happy,  t  have  tried  it 
and  found  it  answer.  All  you  who  haven't  tried  it  begin 
at  once." 

But  the  words  which  meant  much  to  him  conveyed 
nothing  to  Frithiof.  He  listened,  and  wondered  how  a 
man  of  his  own  age  could  possibly  get  up  and  say  such 
things.  What  was  it  he  had  found  ?  How  had  he  found 
it  ?  If  the  speaker  had  shown  the  least  sign  of  vanity  his 
words  would  have  been  utterly  powerless  ;  but  his  quiet 
positiveness  impressed  people,  and  it  was  apparent  to 
every  one  that  he  believed  in  a  strength  which  was  not 
his  own.  There  followed  much  that  seemed  to  Frithiof 
monotonous  and  undesirable  ;  about  thirty  people  on  the 
platform,  one  after  another,  got  up  and  spoke  a  few  words, 
which  invariably  began  with  "  I  thank  the  Lord  I  was 
saved  on  such  and  such  a  night."  He  wondered  and 
wondered  what  the  phrase  meant  to  them,  and  revolved 
in  his  mind  all  the  theological  dogmas  he  had  ever 
heard  of.  Suddenly  he  was  startled  to  find  that  some 
one  was  addressing  him,  a  hymn  was  being  sung,  and 
there  was  a  good  deal  of  movement  in  the  hall ;  people 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  1 45 

went  and  came,  and  an  elderly  woman  had  stepped 
forward  and  taken  a  place  beside  him. 

"  Brother,"  she  said  to  him,  "  are  you  saved?" 

"  Madam,"  he  replied  coldly.  "  I  have  not  the  slightest 
idea." 

"Oh,  then,"  she  said,  with  a  little  gesture  that  re- 
minded him  of  Miss  Charlotte,  "let  me  beg  you  to  come 
at  once  to  Christ." 

"Madam,"  he  said,  still  in  his  coldly  polite  voice, 
"you  must  really  excuse  me,  but  I  do  not  know  what 
you  mean." 

She  was  so  much  surprised  and  puzzled  by  both  words 
and  manner  that  she  hesitated  what  to  reply  ;  and  Frit- 
hiof,  who  hated  being  questioned,  took  his  hat  from  the 
bench,  and  bowing  formally  to  her  left  the  hall.  In  the 
street  he  was  joined  by  Miss  Charlotte. 

"  Oh  !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  I  am  so  sorry  you  said  that. 
You  will  have  made  that  poor  woman  so  terribly  un- 
happy." 

"  It  is  all  her  own  fault,"  said  Frithiof.  "  Why  did  she 
come  meddling  with  my  private  affairs  ?  If  her  belief 
was  real  she  would  have  been  able  to  explain  it  in  a  ra- 
tional way,  instead  of  using  phrases  which  are  just  empty 
words." 

"You  didn't  leave  her  time  to  explain.  And  as  to  her 
belief  being  real,  do  you  think,  if  it  was  not  real,  that 
little,  frail  woman  would  have  had  courage  to  go  twice 
to  prison  for  speaking  in  the  streets  ?  Do  you  think  she 
would  have  been  able  to  convert  the  most  abandoned 
thieves,  and  induce  them  to  make  restitution,  paying  in 
week  by  week  what  they  could  earn  to  replace  what  they 
had  stolen  ?  " 

"Does  she  do  that?  Then  I  respect  her.  When  you 
see  her  again  please  apologize  for  my  abruptness,  and  tell 
her  that  her  form  of  religion  is  too  noisy  for  my  head  and 
too  illogical  for  my  mind." 

They  walked  home  in  silence,  Miss  Charlotte  griev- 
ing over  the  hopeless  failure  of  the  meeting  to  achieve 
what  she  desired.  She  had  not  yet  learned  that  different 
natures  needed  different  kinds  of  food,  and  that  to  expect 
Frithiof  to  swallow  the  teachings  which  exactly  suited 
certain  minds  was  about  as  sensible  as  to  feed  a  baby 
with  Thorley's  Food  for  Cattle.  However,  there  never 
yet  was  an  honest  attempt  to  do  good  which  really  failed, 


146  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN: 

though  the  vast  majority  fail  apparently.  It  was  impossi- 
ble that  the  revivalist's  teaching  could  ever  be  accepted  by 
the  Norseman  ;  but  their  ardent  devotion,  their  practical, 
aggressive  lives,  impressed  him  not  a  little,  and  threw  a 
somewhat  disagreeable  light  over  his  own  selfishness. 
Partly  owing  to  this,  partly  from  physical  causes,  he 
felt  bitterly  out  of  heart  with  himself  for  the  next  few 
weeks.  In  truth  he  was  thoroughly  out  of  health,  and  he 
had  not  the  only  power  which  can  hold  irritability  in  check 
— the  strong  restraint  of  love.  Except  a  genuine  liking 
for  the  Bonifaces,  he  had  nothing  to  take  him  out  of  himself, 
and  he  was  quite  ready  to  return  with  interest  the  dislike 
the  other  men  in  the  shop  felt  for  him,  first  on  account  of 
his  foreign  birth,  but  chiefly  because  of  his  proud  manner 
and  hasty  temper.  Sometimes  he  felt  that  he  could  bear 
the  life  no  longer  :  and  at  times  out  of  his  bare  wretched- 
ness, there  sprang  up  in  him  a  vague  pity  for  those  who 
were  in  his  own  position.  As  he  stood  there  behind  the 
counter  he  would  say  to  himself,  "There  are  thousands 
and  thousands  in  this  city  alone  who  have  day  after  day  to 
endure  this  horrible  monotony,  to  serve  the  customers 
who  are  rude,  and  the  customers  who  are  civil,  the  hur- 
ried ones  who  are  all  impatience,  the  tiresome  ones  who 
dawdle,  the  bores,  who  give  you  as  much  trouble  as  they 
can,  often  for  nothing.  One  day  follows  another  eternally 
in  the  same  dull  round.  I  am  a  hundred  times  better  off 
than  most — there  are  no  hurried  meals  here,  no  fines,  no 
unfairness — and  yet  what  drudgery  it  is  !  " 

And  as  he  glanced  out  at  the  sunny  street  and  heard 
the  sound  of  horses'  hoofs  in  the  road,  a  wild  longing 
used  to  seize  him  for  the  freedom  and  variety  of  his  life  in 
Norway,  and  the  old  fierce  rebellion  against  his  fate  woke 
once  more  in  his  heart,  and  made  him  ready  to  fly  into  a 
rage  on  the  smallest  provocation. 

One  day  he  was  sent  for  to  Mr.  Boniface's  private  room  ; 
he  was  quite  well  aware  that  his  manner,  even  to  Roy 
himself,  whom  he  liked,  had  been  disagreeable  in  the  ex- 
treme, and  the  thought  crossed  his  mind  that  he  was 
going  to  receive  notice  to  leave. 

Mr.  Boniface  was  sitting  at  his  writing-table,  the  sun- 
light fell  on  his  quiet,  refined  face,  lit  up  his  white  hair 
and  trim  beard,  and  made  his  kindly  gray  eyes  brighter 
than  ever.  "I  wanted  a  few  words  with  you,  Falck, "  he 
said,  "Sit  down.  It  seems  to  me  that  you  have  not 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  147 

been  looking-  well  lately,  and  I  thought  perhaps  you  had 
better  take  your  holiday  at  once  instead  of  the  third  week 
in  August.  I  have  spoken  to  Darnell,  and  he  would  be 
willing  to  give  you  his  turn  and  take  the  later  time. 
What  do  you  think  ?  " 

"  You  are  very  good,  sir,"  said  Frithiof,  "  but  I  shall  do 
very  well  with  the  August  holiday,  and,  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  it  will  only  mean  that  I  shall  do  more  translating, " 

"Would  you  not  do  well  to  go  home?  Come,  think  of 
it,  I  would  give  you  three  weeks  if  you  want  to  go  to 
Bergen. " 

Frithiof  felt  a  choking  sensation  in  his  throat,  because 
it  was  of  the  old  life  that  he  had  been  dreaming  all  the 
morning  with  a  restless,  miserable  craving. 

"Thank  you,"  he  said,  with  an  effort,  "but  I  cannot 
go  back  to  Norway." 

"Now,  tell  me  candidly,  Falck,  is  it  the  question  of  ex- 
pense that  hinders  you?"  said  Mr.  Boniface.  "Because 
if  it  is  merely  that,  I  would  gladly  lend  you  the  money. 
You  must  remember  that  you  have  had  a  great  deal  to 
bear  lately,  and  I  think  you  ought  to  give  yourself  a  good 
rest. " 

"Thank  you,"  replied  Frithiof,  "but  it  is  not  exactly 
the  expense.  I  have  money  enough  in  hand  to  pay  for 
my  passage,  but  I  have  made  up  my  mind  not  to  go  back 
till  I  can  clear  off  the  last  of  the  debts  of — of  our  firm," 
he  concluded,  with  a  slight  quiver  in  his  voice. 

"It  is  a  noble  resolution,"  said  Mr.  Boniface,  "and  I 
would  not  for  a  moment  discourage  you.  Still  you  must 
remember  that  it  is  a  great  undertaking,  and  that  with- 
out good  health  you  can  never  hope  for  success.  I  don't 
think  you  get  enough  exercise.  Now,  why  don't  you  join 
our  cricket  club  ?  " 

"I  don't  play,"  said  Frithiof.  "In  Norway  we  are  not 
great  at  those  games,  or  indeed  at  any  kind  of  exercise 
for  the  mere  sake  of  exercise.  That  is  an  idea  that  one 
only  finds  among  Englishmen." 

"  Possibly  ;  but  living  in  our  climate  you  would  do  well 
to  follow  our  habits.  Come,  let  me  persuade  you  to  join 
the  club.  You  look  to  me  as  if  you  needed  greater 
variety. " 

"I  will  think  about  it  for  next  year;  but  just  now 
I  have  work  for  Herr  Sivertsen  on  hand  which  I  can't  put 
aside, "  said  Frithiof. 


I48  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

"  Well,  then,  things  must  go  on  as  they  are  for  the  pres- 
ent," said  Mr.  Boniface  ;  "  but  at  least  you  can  bring  your 
translating  down  to  Rowan  Tree  House,  and  spend  your 
holiday  with  us." 

"You  are  very  kind,"  said  Frithiof,  the  boyish  expres- 
sion returning  to  his  face  just  for  a  minute.  "I  shall  be 
only  too  delighted." 

And  the  interview  seemed  somehow  to  have  done  him 
good,  for  during  the  next  few  days  he  was  less  irritable, 
and  found  his  work  in  consequence  less  irksome. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

BUT  the  change  for  the  better  did  not  last  long,  for 
Frithiof  was  without  the  motive  which  "makes  drudgery 
divine."  And  there  was  no  denying  that  the  work  he  had 
to  do  was  really  drudgery. 

It  has  been  the  fashion  of  late  years  to  dwell  much  on 
the  misery  of  the  slums,  and  most  of  us  are  quite  ready 
to  be  stirred  into  active  sympathy  with  the  abjectly  poor, 
the  hungry  or  the  destitute.  It  is  to  be  feared,  however, 
that  very  few  of  us  have  mueh  consideration  for  the  less 
romantic,  less  sensational  lives  of  the  middle  class, 
the  thousands  who  toil  for  us  day  after  day  behind  the 
counter  or  at  the  desk.  And  yet  are  their  lives  one  whit 
less  worthy  of  sympathy?  Are  they  not  educated  to  a 
point  which  makes  them  infinitely  more  sensitive  ?  Hood 
has  given  us  a  magnificent  poem  on  the  sorrows  of  a  shirt- 
maker  ;  but  who  will  take  the  trouble  to  find  poetry  in 
the  sorrows  and  wearinesses  of  shop  assistants  ?  It  has 
been  said  that  the  very  atmosphere  of  trade  kills  romance, 
that  no  poet  or  novelist  would  dare  to  take  up  such  a 
theme  ;  and  yet  everywhere  the  human  heart  is  the  same, 
and  shop-life  does  not  interfere  with  the  loves  and  hatreds, 
the  joys  and  sorrows  which  make  up  the  life  of  every 
human  being,  and  out  of  which  are  woven  all  the 
romances  which  were  ever  written.  No  one  would  dis- 
pute the  saying  that  labor  is  worship,  yet,  nevertheless, 
we  know  well  enough  that  while  some  work  of  itself  en- 
nobles the  worker,  there  is  other  work  which  has  to  be 
ennobled  by  the  way  in  which  it  is  done.  An  artist  and 
a  coal-heaver  both  toil  for  the  general  good,  but  most 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  149 

people  will  admit  that  the  coal-heaver  is  heavily  handi- 
capped. If  in  the  actual  work  of  shop  assistants  there  is 
a  prosaic  monotony,  then  it  is  all  the  more  probable  that 
they  need  our  warmest  sympathy,  our  most  thoughtful 
considerateness  since  they  themselves  are  no  machines, 
but  men  and  women  with  exactly  the  same  hopes  and 
desires  as  the  rest  of  us.  It  is  because  we  consider  them 
of  a  different  order  that  we  tolerate  the  long  hours,  that 
we  allow  women  to  stand  all  day  long  to  serve  us,  though 
it  has  been  proved  that  terrible  diseases  are  the  conse- 
quence. It  is  because  we  do  not  in  our  hearts  believe 
that  they  are  of  the  same  flesh  and  blood,  that  we  think 
with  a  sort  of  contempt  of  the  very  people  who  are  brought 
most  directly  into  contact  with  us,  and  whose  hard-work- 
ing lives  often  put  ours  to  shame. 

About  the  middle  of  July  the  Bonifaces  went  down  to 
Devonshire  for  their  usual  summer  holiday,  and  Frithiof 
found  that,  as  Roy  had  predicted,  Mr.  Horner  made  him- 
self most  disagreeable,  and  never  lost  a  chance  of  inter- 
fering. It  must  be  owned  that  there  are  few  things  so 
trying  as  fussiness,  particularly  in  a  man,  of  whom  such 
weakness  seems  unworthy.  And  Mr.  Horner  \vas  the 
most  fussy  mortal  on  earth.  It  seemed  as  if  he  called 
forth  all  that  was  bad  in  Frithiof,  and  Frithiof  also  called 
out  everything  that  was  bad  in  him.  The  breach  between 
the  two  was  made  much  wider  by  a  most  trivial  incident. 
A  miserable  looking  dog  unluckily  made  its  way  into  the 
shop  one  morning  and  disturbed  Mr.  Horner  in  his 
sanctum. 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this?  "  he  exclaimed,  bearing 
down  upon  Frithiof.  "Can  you  not  keep  stray  curs  off 
the  premises?  Just  now  too,  with  hydrophobia  raging  !  " 
And  he  drove  and  kicked  the  dog  to  the  door. 

Now  there  is  one  thing  which  no  Norseman  can  tolerate 
for  a  moment,  and  that  is  any  sort  of  cruelty  to  animals. 
Frithiof,  in  his  fury,  did  not  measure  his  words,  or  speak 
as  the  employed  to  the  employer,  and  from  that  time  Mr. 
Horner's  hatred  of  him  increased  tenfold.  To  add  to  all 
this  wretchedness  an  almost  tropical  heat  set  in,  London 
was  like  a  huge  overheated  oven  ;  every  day  Frithiof 
found  the  routine  of  business  less  bearable,  every  day  he 
was  less  able  to  fight  against  his  love  for  Blanche,  and 
he  rapidly  sank  into  the  state  which  hard-headed  people 
flatter  themselves  is  a  mere  foolish  fancy — that  most  real 


1 5 6  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

and  trying  form  of  illness  which  goes  by  the  name  of  de- 
pression. Again  and  again  he  wrestled  with  the  tempta- 
tion that  had  assailed  him  long  ago  in  Hyde  Park,  and 
each  sight  of  James  Horner,  each  incivility  from  those  he 
had  to  serve,  made  the  struggle  harder. 

He  was  sitting  at  his  desk  one  morning  adding  up  a 
column  which  had  been  twice  interrupted,  and  which  had 
three  times  come  to  a  different  result,  when  once  again 
the  swing-door  was  pushed  open  and  a  shadow  falling 
across  his  account  book  warned  him  that  the  customer 
had  come  to  the  song  counter.  Annoyed  and  impatient 
he  put  down  his  pen  and  went  forward,  forcing  up  a  sort 
of  cold  politeness  which  he  assumed  now,  and  which  dif- 
fered strangely  from  the  bright  genial  courtesy  that  had 
once  been  part  of  his  nature. 

The  customer  was  evidently  an  Italian.  He  was  young 
and  strikingly  handsome,  when  he  glanced  at  you,  you 
felt  that  he  had  looked  you  through  and  through,  yet  that 
his  look  was  not  critical  but  kindly,  it  penetrated  yet  at 
the  same  time  warmed.  Beside  him  was  a  bright-eyed 
boy  who  looked  up  curiously  at  the  Norseman,  as  though 
wondering  how  on  such  a  sunny  day  any  one  could  wear 
such  a  clouded  face. 

Now  Frithiof  was  quite  in  the  humor  to  dislike  any  one, 
more  especially  a  man  who  was  young,  handsome,  well- 
dressed,  and  prosperous  looking  ;  but  some  subtle  influence 
crept  over  him  the  instant  he  heard  the  Italian's  voice,  his 
hard  eyes  softened  a  little,  and  without  being  able  to  ex- 
plain it  he  felt  a  strong  desire  to  help  this  man  in  finding  the 
song  which  he  had  come  to  inquire  about,  knowing  only  the 
words  and  the  air,  not  the  name  of  the  composer.  Frit- 
hiof, who  would  ordinarily  have  been  inclined  to  grumble 
at  the  trouble  which  the  search  involved,  now  threw  him- 
self into  it  heart  and  soul,  and  was  as  pleased  as  his  cus- 
tomer when  after  some  little  time  he  chanced  to  find  the 
song. 

"A  thousand  thanks,"  said  the  Italian,  warmly.  "I 
am  delighted  to  get  hold  of  this,  it  is  for  a  friend  who  has 
long  wanted  to  hear  it  again,  but  who  was  only  able  to 
write  down  the  first  part  of  the  air." 

And  he  compared  with  the  printed  song  the  little  bit  of 
manuscript  which  he  had  shown  to  Frithiof.  "Now  was 
it  only  a  happy  fluke  that  made  you  think  of  Knight's 
name?" 


A  HARD  Y  NORSEMAN.  t 5 1 

"I  know  another  of  his  songs,  and  thought  this  bore  a 
sort  of  likeness  to  it,"  said  Frithiof,  pleased  with  his 
success. 

' '  You  know  much  more  of  English  music  than  I  do 
most  likely, "said  the  Italian,  "yet  surely  you,  too,  are 
a  foreigner." 

"Yes,"  replied  Frithiof,  "I  am  Norwegian.  I  have 
only  been  here  for  nine  months,  but  to  try  and  learn  a 
little  about  the  music  is  the  only  interesting  part  of  this 
work." 

The  stranger's  sympathetic  insight  showed  him  much 
of  the  weariness  and  discontent,  and  "  Heimweh"  which 
lay  beneath  these  words. 

"Ah,  yes,"  he  said,  "  I  suppose  both  work  and  country 
seem  flat  and  dull  after  your  life  among  the  fjords  and  moun- 
tains. I  know  well  enough  the  depression  of  one's  first 
year  in  a  new  climate.  But  courage  !  the  worst  will  pass. 
I  have  grown  to  love  this  England  which  once  I  de- 
tested. " 

"It  is  the  airlessness  of  London  which  depresses  one," 
said  poor  Frithiof,  rolling  up  the  song. 

"Yes,  it  is  certainly  very  oppressive  to-day,"  said  the 
Italian.  "I  am  sorry  to  have  given  you  so  much  trouble 
in  hunting  up  this  song  for  me.  We  may  as  well  take  it 
with  us,  Gigi,  as  we  are  going  home." 

And  then  with  a  pleasant  farewell  the  stranger  bowed 
and  went  out  of  the  shop,  leaving  behind  him  a  memory 
which  did  more  to  prevent  the  blue-devils  from  gaining 
the  mastery  of  Frithiof 's  mind  than  anything  else  could  pos- 
sibly have  done.  When  he  left,  however,  at  his  usual  din- 
ner hour  he  was  without  the  slightest  inclination  to  eat,  and 
with  a  craving  for  some  relief  from  the  monotony  of  the 
glaring  streets  he  walked  up  to  Regent's  Park,  hoping  that 
there  perhaps  he  might  find  the  fresh  air  for  which  he  was 
longing.  He  thought  much  of  his  unknown  customer, 
half  laughing  to  himself  now  and  then  to  think  that  such 
a  chance  encounter  should  have  made  upon  him  so  deep 
an  impression,  should  have  wakened  within  him  desires 
such  as  he  had  never  before  felt  for  a  life  which  should  be 
higher,  nobler,  more  manly  than  his  past. 

"Come  along,  will  you  !  "  shouted  a  rough  voice  behind 
him.  He  glanced  round  and  saw  an  evil-looking  tramp 
who  was  speaking  to  a  most  forlorn  little  boy  at  his  heels. 

The  child  seemed  ready  to  drop,  but  with  a  look  of 


1 5  2  A  HARD  Y  NORSEMAN. 

misery  and  fear  and  effort,  most  painful  to  see  in  such  a 
young  face,  it  hurried  on,  keeping  up  a  wretched  little 
sort  of  trot  at  the  heels  of  its  father,  who  tramped  on 
doggedly.  Frithiof  was  not  in  the  habit  of  troubling  him- 
self much  about  those  he  came  across  in  life,  his  heart 
had  been  too  much  imbitteredby  Blanche's  treatment ;  he 
had  got  into  the  way  now  of  looking  on  coldly  and  say- 
ing with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders  that  it  was  the  way  of 
the  world.  But  to-day  the  magical  influence  of  a  noble 
life  was  stirring  within  him  ;  a  man  utterly  unknown  to 
him  had  spoken  to  him  a  few  kindly  words,  had  treated 
him  with  rare  considerateness,  had  somehow  raised  him 
into  a  purer  atmosphere.  And  so  it  happened  that  he, 
too,  began  to  feel  something  of  the  same  divine  sympathy, 
and  to  forget  his  own  wretchedness  in  the  suffering  of  the 
little  child.  Presently  the  tramp  paused  outside  a  public 
house. 

"Wait  for  me  there  in  the  park,"  he  said  to  the  child, 
giving  it  a  push  in  the  direction. 

And  the  little  fellow  went  on  obediently,  until,  just  at 
the  gate,  he  caught  sight  of  a  costermonger's  barrow  on 
which  cool  green  leaves  and  ripe  red  strawberries  were 
temptingly  displayed.  Frithiof  lingered  a  minute  to  see 
what  would  happen,  but  nothing  happened  at  all,  the 
child  just  stood  there  patiently.  There  was  no  expecta- 
tion on  his  tired  little  face,  nothing  but  intense  apprecia- 
tion of  a  luxury  which  must  forever  be  beyond  his  hopes 
of  enjoyment. 

"Have  you  ever  tasted  them  ?"  said  Frithiof,  drawing 
nearer. 

The  boy  shook  his  head  shyly. 

"  Would  you  like  to  ?  " 

Still  he  did  not  speak,  but  a  look  of  rapture  dawned  in 
the  wistful  child  eyes,  and  he  gave  a  little  spring  in  the 
air  which  was  more  eloquent  than  words. 

"  Sixpenny  worth,"  said  Frithiof  to  the  costermonger ; 
then  signing  to  the  child  to  follow,  he  led  the  way  into 
the  park,  sat  down  on  the  nearest  seat,  put  the  basket  of 
strawberries  down  beside  him,  and  glanced  at  his  little 
companion. 

"  There,  now  sit  down  by  me  and  enjoy  them,"  he  said. 

And  the  child  needed  uo  second  bidding,  but  began  to 
eat  with  an  eager  delight  which  was  pleasant  to  see. 
After  a  while  he  paused,  however,  and  shyly  pushed  the 


A  HARD*  NORSEMAN.  153 

basket  a  little  nearer  to  his  benefactor.  Frithiof,  absorbed 
in  his  own  thoughts,  did  not  notice  it,  but  presently 
became  conscious  of  a  small  brown  hand  on  his  sleeve, 
and  looked  round. 

"  Eat,  too,"  said  the  child,  pointing  to  the  basket. 

And  Frithiof,  to  please  him,  smiled  and  took  two  or 
three  strawberries. 

"  There,  the  rest  are  for  you,"  he  said.  "  Do  you  like 
them  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  the  child  emphatically  ;  "  and  I  like  you." 

"Why  do  you  like  me  ?  " 

"I  was  tired,  and  you  was  kind  to  me,  and  these  is 
real  jammy  !  " 

But  after  this  fervent  little  speech,  he  said  no  more.  He 
did  not,  as  a  Norwegian  child  would  have  done,  shake 
hands  as  a  sign  of  gratitude,  or  say  in  the  pretty  Norse  way 
"  Tak  for  maden  "(thanks  for  the  meal)  ;  there  had  never 
been  any  one  to  teach  him  the  expression  of  the  court- 
esies of  life,  and  with  him  they  were  not  innate.  He 
merely  looked  at  his  friend  with  shining  eyes  like  some 
animal  that  feels  but  cannot  speak  its  gratitude.  Then 
before  long  the  father  reappeared,  and  the  little  fellow 
with  one  shy  nod  of  the  head  ran  off,  looking  back  wist- 
fully every  now  and  then  at  the  stranger  who  would  be 
remembered  by  him  to  the  very  end  of  his  life. 

The  next  day  something  happened  which  added  the 
last  drop  to  Frithiof  s  cup  of  misery,  and  made  it  overflow. 
The  troubles  of  the  past  year,  and  the  loneliness  and  pov- 
erty which  he  had  borne,  had  gradually  broken  down  his 
health,  and  there  came  to  him  now  a  revelation  which 
proved  the  final  blow.  He  was  dining  at  his  usual  res- 
taurant. Too  tired  to  eat  much,  he  had  taken  up  a  bit  of 
one  of  the  society  papers  which  some  one  had  left  there, 
and  his  eye  fell  on  one  of  those  detestable  paragraphs 
which  pander  to  the  very  lowest  tastes  of  the  public. 
No  actual  name  was  given,  but  every  one  knowing  any- 
thing about  her  could  not  fail  to  see  that  Blanche  Romiaux 
was  the  woman  referred  to.  The  most  revolting  insinua- 
tions, the  most  contemptible  gossip,  ended  with  the  words, 
"An  interesting  divorce  case  may  soon  be  expected." 

Frithiof  grew  deathly  white.  He  tried  to  believe  that 
it  was  all  a  lie,  tried  to  work,  himself  up  into  a  rage  against 
the  editor  of  the  paper,  tried  to  assure  himself  that  what- 
ever Blanche  might  have  been  before  marriage,  that  after 


154  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

it  she  must  necessarily  become  all  that  was  womanly 
and  pure.  But  deep  down  in  his  heart  there  lurked  a 
fearful  conviction  that,  in  the  main,  this  story  was  true. 
Feeling  sick  and  giddy,  he  made  his  way  along  Oxford 
Street,  noticing  nothing,  walking  like  a  man  in  a  dream. 
Just  in  front  of  Buzzard's  a  victoria  was  waiting,  and  a  re- 
markably good  looking  man  stood  on  the  pavement  talk- 
ing to  its  occupant.  Frithiof  would  have  passed  by  with- 
out observing  them  had  not  a  familiar  voice  startled  him 
into  keen  consciousness.  He  looked  up  hastily  and  saw 
Lady  Romiaux — not  the  Blanche  who  had  won  his  heart 
in  Norway,  for  the  lips  that  had  once  been  pressed  to  his 
wore  a  hard  look  of  defiance,  and  the  eyes  that  had  ensnared 
him  had  now  an  expression  that  confirmed  only  too  well 
the  story  he  had  just  read.  He  heard  her  give  a  little  arti- 
ficial laugh  in  which  there  was  not  even  the  ghost  of  mer- 
riment, and  after  that  it  seemed  as  if  a  great  cloud  had 
descended  on  him.  He  moved  on  mechanically,  but  it 
was  chiefly  by  a  sort  of  instinct  that  he  found  his  way 
back  to  the  shop. 

' '  Good  heavens,  Mr.  Falck,  how  ill  you  are  looking  !  " 
exclaimed  the  head  man  as  he  glanced  at  him.  "  It's  a 
good  thing  Mr.  Robert  will  be  back  again  soon.  If  I'm 
not  very  much  mistaken,  he'll  put  you  into  the  doctor's 
hands." 

"Oh,  it  is  chiefly  this  hot  weather,"  said  Frithiof,  and, 
as  if  anxious  to  put  an  end  to  the  conversation,  he  turned 
away  to  his  desk  and  began  to  write,  though  each  word 
cost  him  a  painful  effort,  and  seemed  to  be  dragged  out 
of  him  by  sheer  force.  At  tea-time  he  wandered  out 
in  the  street,  scarcely  knowing  what  he  was  doing,  and 
haunted  always  by  Blanche's  sadly  altered  face.  When 
he  returned  he  found  that  the  boy  who  dusted  the  shop 
had  spilled  some  ink  over  his  order  book,  whereupon  he 
flew  into  one  of  those  violent  passions  to  which,  of  late, 
he  had  been  liable,  so  entirely  losing  his  self-control  that 
those  about  him  began  to  look  alarmed.  This  recalled 
him  to  himself,  and,  much  disgusted  at  having  made 
such  a  scene,  he  sank  into  a  state  of  black  depression. 
He  could  not  understand  himself;  could  not  make  out 
what  was  wrong  ;  could  not  conceive  how  such  a  trifle 
could  have  stirred  him  into  such  senseless  rage.  He  sat, 
pen  in  hand,  too  sick  and  miserable  to  work,  and  with  a 
wild  confusion  of  thoughts  rushing  through  his  braia 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  1 5 5 

He  was  driving  along  the  Strangaden  with  Blanche,  and 
talking  gayly  of  the  intense  enjoyment  of  mere  existence  ; 
he  was  rowing  her  on  the  fjord,  and  telling  her  the  Frithiof 
Saga  ;  he  was  saving  her  on  the  mountain,  and  listening 
to  her  words  of  love  ;  he  was  down  in  the  sheltered  nook 
below  the  flagstaff  at  Balholm,  and  she  was  clinging  to 
him  in  the  farewell  which  had  indeed  been  forever. 

"  I  can  bear  it  no  longer,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  I  have 
tried  to  bear  this  life,  but  it's  no  use — no  use." 

Yet,  after  a  while,  there  rose  within  him  a  thought 
which  checked  the  haunting  visions  of  failure  and  the 
longing  for  death.  He  remembered  the  face  which  had 
so  greatly  struck  him  the  day  before,  and  again  those 
kindly  words  rang  in  his  ear,  "Courage!  the  worst  will 
pass." 

Who  was  this  man  ?  What  gave  him  his  extraordinary 
influence  ?  How  had  he  gained  his  insight,  and  sympathy, 
and  fearless  brightness  ?  If  one  man  had  attained  to  all 
this,  why  not  any  man  ?  Might  not  life  still  hold  for  him 
something  that  was  worth  having  ?  There  floated  back  to 
him  the  remembrance  of  the  last  pleasurable  moment  he 
had  known — it  was  the  sight  of  the  child's  enjoyment  of 
the  strawberries. 

At  length  closing-time  came.  He  dragged  himself  back 
to  Vauxhall,  shut  himself  into  his  dreary  little  room, 
pulled  the  table  toward  the  open  window,  and  began  to 
work  at  Herr  Sivertsen's  translating.  Night  after  night 
he  had  gone  on,  with  the  dogged  courage  of  his  old  Viking 
ancestors,  upheld  by  the  same  fierce,  fighting  nature 
which  had  made  them  the  terror  of  the  north.  But  at  last 
he  was  at  the  very  end  of  his  strength.  A  violent  shiver- 
ing-fit  seized  him.  Work  was  no  longer  possible  ;  he 
could  only  stagger  to  the  bed,  with  that  terrible  con- 
sciousness of  being  utterly  and  hopelessly  beaten,  which 
to  a  man  is  so  hard  to  bear. 

Oppressed  by  a  frightful  sense  of  loneliness,  dazed  by 
physical  pain,  and  tortured  by  the  thought  of  Blanche's 
disgrace,  there  was  yet  one  thing  which  gave  him  mo- 
ments of  relief — like  a  child  he  strained  his  eyes  to  see  the 
picture  of  Bergen  which  hung  by  the  bedside. 

Later  on,  when  the  summer  twilight  deepened  into 
night,  and  he  could  no  longer  make  out  the  harbor,  and 
the  shipping,  and  the  familiar  mountains,  he  buried  his 
face  in  the  pillow  and  sobbe4  aloud,  in  a  forlorn  misery 


iS6  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN: 

which,  even  in  Paradise,  must  have  wrung  his  mother's 
heart 

Roy  Boniface  came  back  from  Devonshire  the  follow- 
ing day,  his  holiday  being  shortened  by  a  week  on  ac- 
count of  the  illness  of  Mrs.  Horner's  uncle.  As  there  was 
every  reason  to  expect  a  legacy  from  this  aged  relative, 
Mr.  Homer  insisted  on  going  down  at  once  to  see  whether 
they  could  be  of  any  use  ;  and  since  the  shop  was  never 
left  without  one  of  the  partners,  poor  Roy,  anathematiz- 
ing the  whole  race  of  the  Homers,  had  to  come  back  and 
endure  as  best  he  might  a  London  August  and  an  empty 
house. 

Like  many  other  business  men,  he  relieved  the  monot- 
ony of  his  daily  work  by  always  keeping  two  or  three 
hobbies  in  hand.  The  mania  for  collecting  had  always 
been  encouraged  at  Rowan  Tree  House,  and  just  now 
botany  was  his  keenest  delight.  It  was  even,  perhaps, 
absorbing  too  much  of  his  time,  and  Cecil  used  laughingly 
to  tell  him  that  he  loved  it  more  than  all  the  men  and 
women  in  the  world  put  together.  He  was  contentedly 
mounting  specimens  on  the  night  of  his  return,  when 
James  Horner  looked  in,  the  prospective  legacy  making 
him  more  than  ever  fussy  and  pompous. 

"Ah,  so  you  have  come  back  ;  that's  all  right  !  "  he  ex- 
claimed. "  I  had  hoped  you  would  have  come  round  to 
us.  However,  no  matter,  I  don't  know  that  there  is  any- 
thing special  to  say,  and  of  course  this  sad  news  has  up- 
set my  wife  very  much." 

"Ah,"  said  Roy,  somewhat  skeptical  in  his  heart  of 
hearts  about  the  depth  of  her  grief.  "  We  were  sorry  to 
hear  about  it." 

"We  go  down  the  first  thing  to-morrow,"  said  James 
Horner,  "and  shall,  of  course  stay  on.  They  say  there  is 
no  hope  of  recovery." 

"What  do  you  think  of  that  ? ''  said  Roy,  pointing  to  a 
very  minute  flower  which  he  had  just  mounted.  "It  is 
the  first  time  it  has  ever  been  found  in  England." 

"  H'm,  is  it  really  !  "  said  James  Horner,  regarding  it 
with  that  would-be  interested  air,  that  bored  perplexity, 
which  Roy  took  a  wicked  delight  in  calling  forth.  "  Well, 
you  know,  I  don't  understand,"  he  added,  "how  a  practi- 
cal man  like  you  can  take  an  interest  in  such  trumpery 
bits  of  things.  What  are  your  flowers  worth  when  you've 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  157 

done  them  ?  Now,  if  you  took  to  collecting  autographs, 
there'd  be  some  sense  in  that,  for  I  understand  that  a  fine 
collection  of  autographs  fetches  a  good  round  sum  in  the 
market." 

"That  would  only  involve  more  desk-work, "said Roy, 
laughing.  "Writing  to  ask  for  them  would  bore  me 
as  much  as  writing  in  reply  must  bore  the  poor  celeb- 
rities." 

"By-the-by,"  said  Mr.  Horner,  "I  have  just  remem- 
bered to  tell  you  that  provoking  fellow,  Falck,  never 
turned  up  to-day.  He  never  even  had  the  grace  to  sena 
word  that  he  wasn't  coming." 

"  Of  course  he  must  be  ill,"  said  Roy,  looking  disturbed. 
"  He  is  the  last  fellow  to  stay  away  if  he  could  possibly 
keep  up.  We  all  thought  him  looking  ill  before  we  left." 

"I  don't  know  about  illness,"  said  James  Hornet,  put- 
ting on  his  hat ;  "but  he  certainly  has  the  worst  temper 
I've  ever  come  across.  It  was  extremely  awkward  with- 
out him  to-day,  for  already  we  are  short  of  hands." 

"There  can  hardly  be  much  doing,"  said  Roy.  "Lon- 
don looks  like  a  desert.  However,  of  course  I'll  look  up 
Falck.  I  dare  say  he'll  be  all  right  again  by  to-morrow." 

But  he  had  scarcely  settled  himself  down  comfortably 
to  his  work  after  James  Homer's  welcome  departure  when 
the  thought  of  Frithiof  came  to  trouble  him.  After  all, 
was  it  likely  that  a  mere  trifle  would  hinder  a  man  of  the 
Norwegian's  nature  from  going  to  business?  Was  it  not 
much  more  probable  that  he  was  too  ill  even  to  write  an 
excuse?  And  if  so,  how  helpless  and  desolate  he  would 
be! 

Like  most  people,  Roy  was  selfish.  Had  he  lived  alone 
he  would  have  become  more  selfish  every  day  ;  but  it 
was  impossible  to  live  in  the  atmosphere  of  Rowan  Tree 
House  without,  at  any  rate,  trying  to  consider  other  peo- 
ple. With  an  effort  he  tore  himself  away  from  his  be- 
loved specimens,  and  set  off  briskly  for  Vauxhall,  where, 
after  some  difficulty,  he  found  the  little  side  street  in 
which,  among  dozens  of  others  precisely  like  it,  was  the 
house  of  the  three  Miss  Tumours. 

A  little  withered  up  lady  opened  the  door  to  him,  and 
replied  nervously  to  his  question. 

"Mr.  Falck  is  ill, "she  said.  "  He  seems  very  feverish  ; 
but  he  was  like  it  once  before,  when  he  first  came  to 
England,  and  it  passed  off  in  a  day  or  two," 


158  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

"  Can  I  see  him  ?  "  said  Roy. 

"Well,  he  doesn't  like  being  disturbed  at  all,"  said  Miss 
Charlotte.  "He'll  hardly  let  me  inside  the  room.  But 
if  you  would  just  see  him,  I  should  really  be  glad.  You 
will  judge  better  if  he  should  see  the  doctor  or  not." 

"Thank  you,  I'll  go  up  then.  Don't  let  me  trouble 
you. " 

"It  is  noise  he  seems  to  mind  so  much,"  said  Miss 
Charlotte.  "So  if  you  will  find  your  way  up  alone,  per- 
haps it  would  be  best.  It  is  the  first  door  you  come  to  at 
the  top  of  the  last  flight  of  stairs." 

Roy  went  up  quietly,  opened  the  door  as  noiselessly  as 
he  could,  and  went  in.  The  window  faced  the  sunset,  so 
that  the  room  was  still  fairly  light,  and  the  utter  discom- 
fort of  everything  was  fully  apparent. 

"  I  wish  you  wouldn't  come  in  again,"  said  an  irritable 
voice  from  the  bed.  "The  lightest  footstep  is  torture." 

"I  just  looked  in  to  ask  how  you  were,"  said  Roy, 
much  shocked  to  see  how  ill  his  friend  seemed. 

"Oh,  it's  you  !  "  said  Frithiof,  turning  his  flushed  face  in 
the  direction  of  the  speaker.  "Thank  God  you've  come  ! 
That  woman  will  be  the  death  of  me.  She  does  nothing 
but  ask  questions." 

"I've  only  just  got  back  from  Devonshire,  but  they 
said  you  hadn't  turned  up  to-day,  and  I  thought  I  would 
come  and  see  after  you." 

Frithiof  dragged  himself  up  and  drank  feverishly  from 
the  ewer  which  stood  on  a  chair  beside  him. 

"I  tried  to  come  this  morning,"  he  said,  "but  I  was 
too  giddy  to  stand,  and  had  to  give  it  up.  My  head's 
gone  wrong  somehow." 

"  Poor  fellow  !  you  should  have  given  up  before,"  said 
Roy.  "You  seem  in  terrible  pain." 

"Yes,  yes  ;  it's  like  a  band  of  hot  iron,"  moaned  poor 
Frithiof.  Then  suddenly  starting  up  in  wild  excitement, 
"There's  Blanche  !  there's  Blanche  !  Let  me  go  to  her ! 
Let  me  go  !  I  will  see  her  once  more — only  this  once  !  " 

Roy  with  some  difficulty  held  him  down,  and  after  a 
while  he  seemed  to  come  to  himself. 

"Was  I  talking  nonsense?"  he  said.  "It's  a  horrid 
feeling  not  being  able  to  control  one's  self.  If  I  go  crazy 
you  can  just  let  me  die,  please.  Life's  bad  enough  now, 
and  would  be  intolerable  then.  There  she  is  again ! 
She's  smiling  at  roe,  Oh,  Blanche  !— you  did  care  once, 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  159 

Come  back  !  Come  back  !  He  can't  love  you  as  I  love  ! 
But  it's  no  use — no  use  !  she  is  worse  than  dead.  I  tell 
you  I  saw  it  in  that  cursed  paper,  and  I  saw  it  in  her  own 
face.  Why,  one  might  have  known  !  All  women  are  like 
it.  What  do  they  care  so  long  as  their  vanity  is  satis- 
fied ?  It's  just  as  Bjornsen  says  : — 

'  If  thou  hadst  not  so  smiled  on  me, 
Now  I  should  not  thus  weep  for  thee.'  " 

And  then  he  fell  into  incoherent  talk,  chiefly  in  Nor- 
wegian, but  every  now  and  then  repeating  the  English 
rendering  of  Bjornsen's  lines. 

Meanwhile  Roy  turned  over  in  his  mind  half  a  dozen 
schemes,  and  at  length  decided  to  leave  Frithiof  during 
one  of  the  quiet  intervals,  while  he  went  for  their  own 
doctor.  Miss  Charlotte  mounting  guard  outside  the  door, 
and  promising  to  go  to  him  if  he  seemed  to  need  care. 

Dr.  Morris,  who  was  an  old  friend,  listened  to  Roy's 
description,  and  returned  with  him  at  once,  much  to  the 
relief  of  poor  Miss  Charlotie,  who  was  frightened  out  of 
her  senses  by  one  of  Frithiof  s  paroxysms  of  wild  excite- 
ment. 

"Do  you  think  seriously  of  him?"  said  Roy,  when, 
the  excitement  having  died  down,  Frithiof  lay  in  a  sort  of 
stupor,  taking  no  notice  at  all  of  his  surroundings. 

"  If  we  can  manage  to  get  him  any  sleep  he  will  pull 
through  all  right,"  said  Dr.  Morris,  in  his  abrupt  way. 
"If  not  he  will  sink  before  many  days.  You  had  better 
send  for  his  mother,  if  he  has  one." 

"  He  has  only  a  sister,  and  she  is  in  Norway." 

"Well,  send  for  her,  for  he  will  need  careful  nursing. 
You  say  you  will  take  charge  of  him  ?  Very  well ;  and 
to-morrow  morning  I  will  send  in  a  nurse,  who  will  set 
you  at  liberty  for  a  few  hours.  Evidently  he  has  had 
some  shock.  Can  you  make  out  what  it  was  at  all  ? " 

"Well,  last  autumn,  I  believe — indeed,  lam  sure — he 
was  jilted  by  an  English  girl  with  whom  he  was  desper- 
ately in  love.  It  all  came  upon  the  top  of  the  other  troubles 
of  which  I  told  you." 

"And  what  is  this  paper  he  raves  about?  What  is  the 
girl's  name?  We  might  get  some  clew  in  that  way." 

"Oh,  said  Roy,  "she  was  married  some  months  ago. 
She  is  now  Lady  Romiaux. " 

The  doctor  gave  a  stifled  exclamation, 


160  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

"That  explains  all.  I  suppose  the  poor  fellow  honestly 
cared  for  her,  and  was  shocked  to  see  the  paragraph  in 
this  week's  '  Idle  Time.'  Your  friend  has  had  a  lucky  es- 
cape, if  he  could  but  see  it  in  that  light.  For  the  hus- 
band of  that  heartless  little  flirt  must  be  the  most  miserable 
man  alive.  We  shall  soon  have  another  of  those  detest- 
able causes  celebres,  and  the  newspapers  lying  about  in 
every  household  will  be  filled  with  all  the  poisonous 
details." 

As  Roy  kept  watch  through  the  long  nights  and  days 
that  followed,  as  he  listened  to  the  delirious  ravings  of 
his  patient,  perceived  how  a  man's  life  and  health  had 
been  ruined  by  the  faithlessness  of  a  vain  girl,  he  became 
so  absorbed  in  poor  Frithiof,  so  devoted  to  him,  that  he 
altogether  forgot  his  specimens  and  his  microscope.  He 
wondered  greatly  how  many  victims  had  been  sacrificed 
to  Blanche  Romiaux's  selfish  love  of  admiration,  and  he 
longed  to  have  her  in  that  room,  and  point  to  the  man 
who  tossed  to  and  fro  in  sleepless  misery,  and  say  to  her, 
"This  is  what  your  hateful  flirting  has  brought  about." 

But  the  little  Norwegian  episode  had  entirely  passed 
out  of  Lady  Romiaux's  mind.  Had  she  been  questioned 
she  would  probably  have  replied  that  her  world  contained 
too  many  hard  realities  to  leave  room  for  the  recollection 
of  mere  dreams. 

The  dream,  however,  had  gone  hard  with  Frithiof. 
Sleeping-draughts  had  no  effect  on  him,  and  his  tempera- 
ture remained  so  high  that  Dr.  Morris  began  to  fear  the 
worst. 

Roy  used  to  be  haunted  by  the  thought  that  he  had 
telegraphed  for  Sigrid  Falck,  and  that  he  should  have  to 
meet  her  after  her  long  journey  with  the  news  that  all  was 
over.  And  remembering  the  bright  face  and  sunny 
manner  of  the  Norwegian  girl,  his  heart  failed  him  at  the 
thought  of  her  desolation.  But  Frithiof  could  not  even 
take  in  the  idea  that  she  had  been  sent  for.  Nothing  now 
made  any  difference  to  him.  Sleep  alone  could  restore 
him.  But  sleep  refused  to  come,  and  already  the  death- 
angel  hovered  near,  ready  to  give  him  the  release  for 
which  he  so  greatly  longed. 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

ALTHOUGH  it  was  the  middle  of  August  a  bitterly  cold 
wind  blew  round  the  dreary  little  posting  station  of 
Hjerken,  on  the  Dovrefield,  and  at  the  very  time  when 
Frithiof  lay  dying  in  the  intolerable  heat  of  London, 
Sigrid,  shivering  with  cold,  paced  drearily  along  the 
bleak  mountain  road  with  her  aunt.  They  had  come  to 
the  Dovrefield  a  fortnight  before  for  the  summer  holiday, 
but  the  weather  had  been  unfavorable,  and  away  from 
home,  with  nothing  very  particular  to  occupy  their  time, 
Fru  Gronvold  and  Sigrid  seemed  to  jar  upon  each  other 
more  than  ever.  Apparently  the  subject  they  were  dis- 
cussing was  not  at  all  to  the  girl's  taste,  for  as  they 
walked  along  there  were  two  ominous  little  depressions 
in  her  forehead,  nor  did  her  black  fur  hat  entirely  account 
for  the  shadow  that  overspread  her  face. 

"Yes,"  said  Fru  Gronvold  emphatically,  "I  am  sorry 
to  have  to  say  such  a  thing  of  you,  Sigrid,  but  it  really 
seems  to  me  that  you  are  playing  the  part  of  the  dog  in 
the  manger.  You  profess  absolute  indifference  to  every 
man  you  meet,  yet  you  go  on  absorbing  attention,  and 
standing  in  Karen's  light,  in  a  way  which  I  assure  you  is 
very  trying  to  me." 

Sigrid's  cheek  flamed. 

"I  have  done  nothing  to  justify  you  in  saying  such  a 
thing,"  she  said  angrily. 

"  What !"  cried  Fru  Gronvold.  "Did  not  that  Swed- 
ish botanist- talk  to  you  incessantly?  Does  not  the  Eng- 
lish officer  follow  you  about  whenever  he  has  the  oppor- 
tunity ? " 

"The  botanist  talked  because  we  had  a  subject  in 
common,"  replied  Sigrid.  "And  probably  the  officer 
prefers  talking  to  me  because  my  English  is  more  fluent 
than  Karen's." 

"And  that  I  suppose  was  the  reason  that  you  must  be 
the  one  to  teach  him  the  spring  dans  r*  And  the  one  to 
sing  him  the  '  Bridal  Song  of  the  Hardanger  ? ' ' 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  Sigrid  with  an  impatient  little  stamp 
of  the  foot,  "am  I  to  be  forever  thinking  of  this  wretched 
scheming  and  match-making  ?  Can  1  not  even  try  to 
xz 


1 62  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

amuse  a  middle-aged  Englishman  who  is  disappointed  of 
his  reindeer,  and  finds  himself  stranded  in  a  dreary  little 
inn  with  a  handful  of  foreigners?  I  have  only  been 
courteous  to  him — nothing  more  ;  and  if  I  like  talking  to 
him  it  is  merely  because  he  comes  from  England." 

"I  don't  wish  to  be  hard  on  you,"  said  Fru  Gronvold, 
"  but  naturally  I  have  the  feelings  of  a  mother,  and  do  not 
like  to  see  Karen  eclipsed.  I  accuse  you  of  nothing 
worse,  my  dear,  than  a  slight  forwardness — a  little  defi- 
ciency in  tact.  There  is  no  occasion  for  anger  on  your 
part. " 

Sigrid  bit  her  lip  hard  to  keep  back  the  retort  that  she 
longed  to  make,  and  they  walked  in  silence  toward  the 
little  cluster  of  wooden  buildings  on  the  hilleside,  the  low- 
est of  which  contained  the  bedrooms,  while  farther  up  the 
hill  the  kitchen  and  dining-room  stood  on  one  side  of  the 
open  courtyard,  and  on  the  other  the  prettily  arranged 
public  sitting-room.  In  warm  weather  Hjerkin  is  a  little 
paradise,  but  on  this  windy  day,  under  a  leaden  sky,  it 
seemed  the  most  depressing  place  on  earth. 

"I shall  go  in  and  write  to  Frithiof,"  said  Sigrid  at 
length.  And  escaping  gladly  from  Fru  Gronvold,  she  ran 
up  to  her  room. 

"Here  we  are  at  Hjerkin,"  she  wrote,  "for  a  month, 
and  it  is  more  desolate  than  I  can  describe  to  you,  uncle 
and  Oscar  out  shooting  all  day  long,  and  scarcely  a  soul 
to  speak  to,  for  most  of  the  English  have  been  driven 
away  by  the  bad  weather,  and  two  girls  from  Stockholm 
who  were  here  for  their  health  are  leaving  this  afternoon, 
unable  to  bear  the  dullness  any  longer.  If  something 
doesn't  happen  soon  I  think  I  shall  grow  desperate.  But 
surely  something  will  happen.  We  can't  be  meant  to  go 
on  in  this  wretched  way,  apart  from  each  other.  I  am 
disappointed  that  you  think  there  is  no  chance  of  any 
opening  for  me  in  London.  If  it  were  not  for  Swanhild  I 
think  I  should  try  for  work — any  sort  of  work  except 
teaching — at  Christiania.  But  I  can't  bear  to  leave  her, 
and  uncle  would  object  to  my  trying  for  anything  of  the 
sort  in  Bergen.  I  can't  help  thinking  of  the  old  times 
when  we  were  children,  and  of  the  summer  holidays  then. 
Don't  you  remember  when  we  had  the  island  all  to  our- 
selves, and  used  to  rush  down  the  fir-hill,  and  frighten 
poor  old  Gro?" 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  l6> 

She  stopped  writing  because  the  thought  of  those 
past  days  had  blinded  her  with  tears,  and  because  the 
longing  for  her  father's  presence  had  overwhelmed  her ; 
they  had  been  so  much  to  each  other  that  there  was  not 
an  hour  in  the  day  when  she  did  not  miss  him.  The 
dreary  wind  howling  and  whistling  round  the  little 
wooden  house  seemed  to  harmonize  only  too  well  with 
her  sadness,  and  when  the  unwelcome  supper-bell  began 
to  ring  she  wrapped  her  shawl  about  her,  and  climbed  the 
steep  path  to  the  dining-room  slowly  and  reluctantly, 
with  a  look  on  her  pale  face  which  it  was  sad  to  see  in 
one  so  young. 

Swanhild  came  dancing  to  meet  her. 

"Major  Brown  has  got  us  such  beautiful  trout  for  sup- 
per, Sigrid,  and  uncle  says  I  may  go  out  fishing,  too, 
some  day.  And  you'll  come  with  us,  won't  you?  " 

"You  had  better  take  Karen,"  said  Sigrid  listlessly. 
"You  know  I  never  did  care  much  for  fishing.  You 
shall  catch  them  and  I  will  eat  them,"  she  added  with  a 
dreary  little  smile.  And  throughout  supper  she  hardly 
spoke,  and  at  the  first  opportunity  slipped  away  quietly, 
only,  however,  to  be  pursued  by  Swanhild. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  said  the  child,  slipping  her 
arm  round  her  sister's  waist.  "  Are  you  not  coming  to 
the  sitting-room  ? " 

' '  No,"  said  Sigrid,  "I  am  tired,  and  it  is  so  cold  in  there. 
I  am  going  into  the  kitchen  to  buy  some  stamps.  Frith- 
iof's  letter  ought  to  go  to-morrow." 

As  she  spoke  she  opened  the  door  of  the  roomy  old 
kitchen,  which  is  the  pride  of  Hjerkin.  Its  three  windows 
were  shaded  by  snowy  muslin  curtains,  its  spotless  floor 
was  strewed  with  juniper,  the  walls,  painted  a  peacock 
blue,  were  hung  with  bright  dish  covers,  warming  pans, 
quaint  old  bellows  and  kitchen  implements.  There  was 
a  tall  old  clock  in  a  black  and  gold  case,  a  pretty  corner 
cupboard  in  shaded  brown,  and  a  huge  old-fashioned 
cabinet  with  cunning  little  drawers  and  nooks  and  cor- 
ners, all  painted  in  red  and  blue  and  green,  with  an  amount 
of  gilding  which  gave  it  quite  an  Eastern  look. 

"Ah,  how  cosy  the  fire  looks  !  "  cried  Swanhild,  cross- 
ing over  to  the  curious  old  grate  which  filled  the  whole 
of  one  corner  of  the  room,  and  which  certainly  did  look 
very  tempting  with  its  bright  copper  kettles  and  sauce- 
pans  all  glowing  in  the  ruddy  light. 


1 64  ^  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

"Bless  your  heart,"  said  the  kind  old  landlady,  "sit 
down  and  warm  yourself." 

And  one  of  the  white-sleeved  servant  girls  brought  a 
little  chair  which  stood  by  a  long  wooden  settle,  and  put 
it  close  by  the  fire  for  the  child,  and  Sigrid,  her  purchase 
made,  joined  the  little  group,  and  sat  silently  warming 
her  hands,  finding  a  sort  of  comfort  in  the  mere  physical 
heat,  and  in  the  relief  of  being  away  from  her  aunt.  The 
landlady  told  Swanhild  stories,  and  Sigrid  listened  dream- 
ily, letting  her  thoughts  wander  off  now  and  then  to  Frith- 
iof,  or  back  into  the  far  past,  or  away  into  the  future 
which  looked  so  dreary.  Still  the  kindness  of  these  peo- 
ple, and  the  interest  and  novelty  of  her  glimpse  into  a 
different  sort  of  life,  warmed  her  heart  and  cheered  her  a 
little.  Sitting  there  in  the  firelight  she  felt  more  at  home 
than  she  had  done  for  many  months. 

"  Come,  Swanhild,"  she  said  at  last  reluctantly,  "it  is 
ten  o'clock  and  time  you  were  in  bed." 

And,  thanking  the  landlady  for  her  kindness,  the  two 
sisters  crossed  over  the  court-yard  to  the  sitting-room, 
where  Fru  Gronvold  was  watching  the  progress  of  a  rubber 
in  which  Karen  was  Major  Brown's  partner,  and  had 
just  incurred  his  wrath  by  revoking.  "Where  in  the 
world  have  you  been  ?  "  said  Fru  Gronvold,  knitting  vehe- 
mently. "We  couldn't  think  what  had  become  of  you 
both." 

"I  went  to  the  kitchen  to  get  some  stamps,  "said  Sigrid 
coldly.  She  always  resented  her  aunt's  questioning. 

"And  it  was  so  lovely  and  warm  in  there,"  said  Swan- 
hild gayly,  "and  Fru  Hjerkin  has  been  telling  me  such 
beautiful  stories  about  the  Trolds.  Her  mother  really  saw 
one,  do  you  know." 

After  this  a  cold  good-night  was  exchanged,  and  Fru 
Gronvold's  brow  grew  darker  still  when  Major  Brown 
called  out  in  his  hearty  way — 

"What,  going  so  early,  Miss  Falck  ?  We  have  missed 
you  sadly  to-night."  Then,  as  she  said  something  about 
the  English  mail,  "Yes,  yes,  quite  right.  And  I  ought 
to  be  writing  home,  too,  instead  of  playing." 

"  That  means  that  he  will  not  have  another  rubber," 
thought  Sigrid  as  she  hurried  down  the  hill  to  the  depend- 
ence, "  and  I  shall  be  blamed  for  it." 

She  fell  Into  a  state  of  blank  depression,  and  long  after 
Swanhild  was  fast  asleep  she  sat  struggling  with  the  Eng- 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  \ 65 

lish  letter,  which,  do  what  she  would,  refused  to  have  a 
cheerful  tone  forced  into  it. 

"  The  only  comfort  is,"  she  thought,  "that  the  worst 
has  happened  to  us  ;  what  comes  now  must  be  for  the  bet- 
ter. How  the  wind  is  raging  round  the  house  and  shriek- 
ing at  the  windows  !  And,  oh,  how  dreary  and  wretched 
this  life  is  !  " 

And  in  very  low  spirits  she  blew  out  the  candle,  and 
lay  down  to  sleep  as  best  she  might  in  a  bed  which  shook 
beneath  her  in  the  gale. 

With  much  that  was  noble  in  Sigrid's  nature  there  was 
.interwoven  a  certain  fault  of  which  she  herself  was  keenly 
conscious.  She  could  love  a  few  with  the  most  ardent 
and  devoted  love,  but  her  sympathies  were  not  wide ;  to 
the  vast  majority  of  those  she  met  she  was  absolutely 
indifferent,  and  though  naturally  bright  and  courteous  and 
desirous  of  giving  pleasure,  yet  she  was  too  deeply  re- 
served to  depend  at  all  on  the  outer  circle  of  friends ;  she 
liked  them  well  enough,  but  it  would  not  greatly  have 
troubled  her  had  she  never  met  them  again.  Very  few 
had  the  power  to  call  out  all  the  depths  of  tenderness,  all 
the  womanly  sweetness  which  really  characterized  her, 
while  a  great  many  repelled  her,  and  called  out  the  harder 
side  of  her  nature. 

It  was  thus  with  Fru  Gronvold.  To  her  aunt  Sigrid  was 
like  an  icicle,  and  her  hatred  of  the  little  schemes  and 
hopes  and  anxieties  which  filled  Fru  Gronvold's  mind  blinded 
her  to  much  that  was  worthy  of  all  admiration.  However, 
like  all  the  Falcks,  Sigrid  was  conscientious,  and  she  had 
been  struggling  on  through  the  spring  and  summer,  mak- 
ing spasmodic  efforts  to  overcome  her  strong  dislike  to  one 
who  in  the  main  was  kind  to  her,  and  the  very  fact  that 
she  had  tried  made  her  now  more  conscious  of  her  failure. 

"My  life  is  slipping  by,"  she  thought  to  herself,  "and 
somehow  I  am  not  making  the  most  of  it.  I  am  harder 
and  colder  than  before  all  this  trouble  came,  I  was  a  mere 
fine-weather  character,  and  the  storm  was  too  much  for 
me.  If  I  go  on  hating  auntie  perhaps  I  shall  infect  Swan- 
hild,  and  make  her  turn  into  just  such  another  narrow- 
hearted  woman.  Oh,  why  does  one  have  to  live  with 
people  that  rub  one  just  the  wrong  way  ?  " 

She  fell  asleep  before  she  had  solved  this  problem,  but 
woke  early  with  a  restless  craving,  which  she  could  not 
have  explained,  dressed  hastily,  put  on  all  the  wraps 


1 66  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

that  she  possessed  and  went  out  into  the  ftcsn 
air. 

"I  have  got  to  put  up  with  this  life,"  stibs«idto  herself, 
"and  I  shall  just  walk  off  this  stupid  discontented  mood. 
What  can't  be  cured  must  be  endured.  Oh,  how  beauti- 
ful it  is  out  all  alone  in  the  early  morning  !  I  am  glad 
the  wind  is  quite  gone  down,  it  has  just  cooled  the  air  so 
that  to  breathe  it  is  like  drinking  iced  water.  After  all, 
one  can't  talk  of  merely  enduring  life  when  there  is  all 
this  left  to  one." 

Leaving  the  steep  high  road,  she  struck  off  to  the  left, 
intent  on  gaining  the  top  of  Hjerkinsho.  Not  a  house  was 
in  sight,  not  a  trace  of  any  living  being  ;  she  walked  on 
rapidly,  for,  although,  the  long  upward  slope  was  in  parts 
fairly  steep,  the  gray  lichen  with  which  the  ground  was 
thickly  covered  was  so  springy  and  delicious  to  walk  on 
that  she  felt  no  fatigue,  the  refreshing  little  scrunch  that 
it  made  beneath  her  feet  seemed  in  itself  to  invigorate  her. 
By  the  time  she  reached  the  top  of  the  hill  she  was  glow- 
ing with  exercise,  and  was  glad  to  sit  down  and  rest  by 
the  cairn  of  stones.  All  around  her  lay  one  great  undulat- 
ing sweep  of  gray  country,  warmed  by  the  bright  sun- 
light of  the  summer  morning,  and  relieved  here  and  there 
by  the  purple  shadow  of  some  cloud.  Beyond,  there 
rose  tier  above  tier  of  snowy  peaks,  Snehaetten  standing 
out  the  most  nobly  of  all,  and  some  eighty  attendant 
peaks  ranged  round  the  horizon  line  as  though  they  were 
courtiers  in  attendance  on  the  monarch  of  the  district. 
At  first  Sigrid  was  so  taken  up  by  this  wonderful  panor- 
ama that  she  had  not  a  thought  for  anything  beyond  it, 
but  after  a  while  the  strange  stillness  roused  her  ;  for 
the  first  time  in  her  life  she  had  come  into  absolute  silence, 
and  what  made  the  silence  was  the  infinite  space. 

"If  one  could  always  be  in  a  peace  like  this,"  she 
thought,  "surely  life  would  be  beautiful  then!  If  one 
could  get  out  of  all  the  littleness  and  narrowness  of  one's 
own  heart,  and  be  silent  and  quiet  from  all  the  worries 
and  vexations  and  dislikes  of  life  !  Perhaps  it  was  the 
longing  for  this  that  made  women  go  into  convents ; 
some  go  still  into  places  where  they  never  speak.  That 
would  never  suit  me,  out  of  sheer  perversity  I  should 
want  to  talk  directly.  But  it  one  could  always  have  a 
great  wide  open  space  like  this  that  one  could  go  into 
when  one  began  to  get  cross " 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  167 

But  there  all  definite  thought  was  suddenly  broken,  be- 
cause nature  and  her  own  need  had  torn  down  a  veil, 
and  there  rushed  into  her  consciousness  a  perception  of 
an  infinite  calm,  into  which  all  might  at  any  moment  re- 
tire. The  sense  of  that  Presence  which  had  so  clearly 
dawned  on  her  on  the  night  of  her  father's  death,  returned 
to  her  now  more  vividly,  and  for  the  first  time  in  her  life 
she  was  absolutely  at  rest. 

After  a  time  she  rose  and  walked  quietly  home,  full  of 
an  eager  hopefulness,  to  begin  what  she  rightly  felt  would 
be  a  new  life.  She  stopped  to  pick  a  lovely  handful  of 
flowers  for  her  aunt ;  she  smiled  at  the  thought  of  the 
annoyance  she  had  felt  on  the  previous  night  about  such 
a  trifle,  and  went  forward  almost  gayly  to  meet  the  old 
troubles  which  but  a  few  hours  before  had  seemed  intoler- 
able, but  now  looked  slight  and  easy. 

Poor  Sigrid !  she  had  yet  to  learn  that  with  fresh 
strength  comes  harder  fighting  in  the  battle  of  life,  and  that 
of  those  to  whom  much  is  given  much  will  be  required. 

They  were  very  cheerful  that  morning  at  breakfast ; 
Fru  Gronvold  seemed  pleased  with  the  flowers,  and  every- 
thing went  smoothly.  Afterward,  when  they  were  stand- 
ing in  a  little  group  outside  the  door,  she  even  passed  her 
arm  within  Sigrid's  quite  tenderly,  and  talked  in  the  most 
amiable  way  imaginable  of  the  excursion  which  was  be- 
ing planned  to  Kongswold. 

"Look!  look!"  cried  Swanhild  merrily,  "here  are 
some  travelers.  Two  carrioles  and  a  stolkjaerre  coming 
up  the  hill.  Oh  !  I  hope  they  will  be  nice,  and  that  they 
will  stay  here." 

The  arrival  caused  quite  a  little  bustle  of  excitement, 
and  many  speculations  were  made  as  to  the  relationship 
of  the  two  sportsmen,  and  the  two  ladies  in  the  stolk- 
jaerre. Major  Brown  came  forward  to  do  the  honors  of 
the  place  as  the  landlord  happened  not  to  be  at  hand. 

"  Is  there  any  one  of  the  name  of  Falck  here  ? "  asked 
one  of  the  travelers  as  he  dismounted  from  his  carriole. 
We  were  at  Dombaas  last  night  and  promised  to  bring 
this  on  ;  we  told  the  landlord  that  we  meant  to  sleep  at 
Fokstuen,  but  he  said  there  was  no  quicker  way  of  de- 
livery. Seems  a  strange  mode  of  delivering  telegrams, 
doesn't  it  ? " 

"Why,  Miss  Flack,  I  see  it  is  for  you,"  said  Major 
Brown  glancing  at  the  direction. 


168  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN1. 

She  stepped  hastily  forward  to  take  it  from  him  with 
flushed  cheeks  and  trembling  hands  ;  it  seemed  an  eter- 
nity before  she  had  torn  it  open,  and  the  few  words 
within  half  paralyzed  her. 

For  a  moment  all  seemed  to  stand  still,  then  she  became 
conscious  of  the  voices  around. 

"Oh,  we  were  almost  blown  away  at  Fokstuen,"  said 
one. 

"But  suchfladbrod  as  they  make  there  !  "  said  another, 
"we  brought  away  quite  a  tinful." 

"Nothing  wrong,  my  dear,  I  hope?"  said  Fru  Gron- 
vold.  "Child,  child,  what  is  it?  Let  me  read." 

Then  came  an  almost  irresistible  impulse  to  burst  into 
a  flood  of  tears,  checked  only  by  the  presence  of  so  many 
strangers,  and  by  the  necessity  of  explaining  to  her 
aunt. 

"It  is  in  English,"  she  said  in  a  trembling  voice, 
"From  Mr.  Boniface.  It  says  only  '  Frithiof  dangerously 
ill.  Come.'" 

"  Poor  child  !  you  shall  go  at  once,"  said  Fru  Gronvold. 
"  What  can  be  wrong  with  Frithiof?  Dangerously  ill  !  " 
See,  it  was  sent  from  London  yesterday.  You  shall  not 
lose  a  moment,  my  dear.  Here  is  your  uncle,  I'll  tell 
him  everything,  and  do  you  go  and  pack  what  things 
you  need." 

The  girl  obeyed ;  it  seemed  as  if  when  once  she  had 
moved  she  was  capable  only  of  the  one  fe*r — the  terrible 
fear  lest  she  should  miss  the  English  steamer.  Already 
it  was  far  too  late  to  think  of  catching  the  Thursday 
steamer  from  Christiania  to  London,  but  she  must  strain 
every  nerve  to  catch  the  next  one.  Like  one  in  a  fright- 
ful dream  she  hastily  packed,  while  Swanhild  ran  to  and 
fro'on  messages,  her  tears  falling  fast,  for  she,  poor  little 
soul,  would  be  left  behind,  since  it  was  impossible  that 
she  should  be  taken  to  London  lodgings  where,  for  aught 
they  knew,  Frithiof  might  be  laid  up  with  some  infectious 
illness.  In  all  her  terrible  anxiety  Sigrid  felt  for  the  child, 
and  with  a  keen  pang  remembered  that  she  had  not  set 
her  the  best  of  examples,  and  that  all  her  plans  for  a  new 
life,  and  for  greater  sympathy  with  her  aunt,  were  now 
at  an  end.  The  old  life  with  all  its  lost  opportunities  was 
over — it  was  over,  and  she  rightly  felt  that  she  had  failed. 

"I  have  murmured  and  rebelled,"  she  thought  to  her- 
self, ' '  and  now  God  is  going  to  take  from  me  even  a 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  169 

chance  of  making  up  for  it.  Oh,  how  hard  it  is  to  try  too 
late  !  " 

"  We  have  been  looking  out  the  routes,  dear,"  said  Fru 
Gronvold,  coming  into  the  room,  "and  the  best  way 
will  be  for  you  to  try  for  the  Friday  afternoon  boat  from 
Christiania ;  it  generally  gets  to  Hull  a  little  before  the 
Saturday  one  from  Bergen,  your  uncle  says. " 

"  When  can  I  start?"  asked  Sigrid  eagerly. 

"You  must  start  almost  at  once  for  Lille-elvedal ;  it 
will  be  a  terrible  tiring  drive  for  you,  I  am  afraid — eighty- 
four  kilometres  and  a  rough  road.  But  still  there  is  time 
to  do  it,  which  is  the  great  thing.  At  Lille-elvedal  you 
will  take  the  night  train  to  Christiania,  it  is  a  quick  one, 
and  will  get  you  there  in  ten  hours,  quite  in  time  to  catch 
the  afternoon  boat,  you  see.  Your  uncle  will  take  you 
and  see  you  into  the  train,  and  if  you  like  we  can  tele- 
graph to  some  friend  to  meet  you  at  the  Christiania 
station  ;  the  worst  of  it  is,  I  fear  most  people  are  away 
just  now." 

"Oh,  I  shall  not  want  any  one,"  said  Sigrid.  "If  only 
I  can  catch  the  steamer  nothing  matters. " 

"And  do  not  worry  more  than  you  can  help,"  said 
Fru  Gronvold.  "  Who  knows  ?  You  may  find  him  much 
better. " 

"They  would  not  have  sent  unless  they  feared " 

Sigrid  broke  off  abruptly,  unable  to  finish  her  sentence. 
And  then  with  a  few  incoherent  words  she  clung  to  her 
aunt,  asking  her  forgiveness  for  having  annoyed  her  so 
often,  and  thanking  her  for  all  her  kindness.  And  Fru 
Gronvold,  whose  conscience  also  pricked  her,  kissed  the 
girl  and  cried  over  her,  and  was  goodness  itself. 

Then  came  the  wrench  of  parting  with  poor  Swanhild, 
who  broke  down  altogether,  and  had  to  be  left  in  the 
desolate  little  bedroom  sobbing  her  heart  out,  while  Sigrid 
went  downstairs  with  her  aunt,  bade  a  hurried  farewell  to 
Major  Brown,  Oscar,  and  Karen  ;  then,  with  a  pale,  tear- 
less face  climbed  into  the  stolkjaerre,  and  was  driven 
slowly  away  in  the  direction  of  Dalen. 

Her  uncle  talked  kindly,  speculating  much  as  to  the 
cause  of  Frithiofs  illness,  and  she  answered  as  guardedly 
as  she  could,  all  the  time  feeling  convinced  that  some- 
how Blanche  Morgan  was  at  the  bottom  of  it  all.  Were 
they  never  to  come  to  the  end  of  the  cruel  mischief 
wrought  by  one  selfish  woman's  vanity  ?  One  thing  was 


170  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

clear  to  her  if  Frithiof  was  spared  to  them  she  could 
never  leave  him  again,  and  the  thought  of  a  possible  ex- 
ile from  Norway  made  her  look  back  lingeringly  at  the 
scenes  she  was  leaving.  Snehaetten's  lofty  peaks  still  ap- 
peared in  the  distance,  rising  white  and  shining  into  the 
clear  blue  sky  ;  what  ages  it  seemed  since  she  had  watched 
it  from  Hjerkinsho  in  the  wonderful  stillness  which  had 
preceded  this  great  storm  !  Below  her,  to  the  right,  lay 
a  lovely  smiling  valley  with  birch  and  fir  trees,  and  be- 
yond were  round-topped  mountains,  with  here  and  there 
patches  of  snow  gleaming  out  of  black  rocky  clefts. 

But  soon  all  thought  of  her  present  surroundings  was 
crowded  out  by  the  one  absorbing  anxiety,  and  all  the 
more  because  of  her  father's  recent  death  hope  seemed  to 
die  within  her,  and  something  seemed  to  tell  her  that  this 
hurried  journey  would  be  in  vain.  Each  time  the  grisly 
fear  clutched  at  her  heart,  the  slowness  of  their  progress 
drove  her  almost  frantic,  and  the  easy-going  people  at 
Dalen  who  leisurely  fetched  a  horse  which  proved  to  be 
lame,  and  then  after  much  remonstrance,  leisurely  fetched 
another,  tried  her  patience  almost  beyond  bearing.  With 
her  own  hands  she  helped  to  harness  the  fresh  pony,  and 
at  the  dreary  little  station  of  Kroghaugen,  where  all 
seemed  as  quiet  as  the  grave,  she  not  only  made  the  peo- 
ple bestir  themselves,  but  on  hearing  that  it  was  necessary 
to  make  some  sort  of  a  meal  there,  fetched  the  fagots  her- 
self to  relight  the  fire,  and  never  rested  till  all  that  the 
place  would  afford  was  set  before  Herr  Gronvold. 

At  length  the  final  change  had  been  made.  Ryhaugen 
was  passed,  and  they  drove  on  as  rapidly  as  might  be  for 
the  last  stage  of  their  journey.  At  any  other  time  the  beauti- 
ful fir  forest  through  which  they  were  passing  would  have 
delighted  her,  and  the  silvery  river  in  the  valley  below, 
with  its  many  windings  and  its  musical  ripple,  would 
have  made  her  long  to  stay.  Now  she  scarcely  saw  them  ; 
and  when  in  the  heart  of  the  forest,  the  skydsgut  declared 
that  his  horse  must  rest  for  half  an  hour,  she  was  in 
despair. 

"But  there  is  plenty  of  time,  dear,"  said  her  uncle 
kindly.  "Come  and  take  a  turn  with  me;  it  will  rest 
you." 

She  paced  to  and  fro  with  him,  trying  to  conquer  the 
frenzy  of  impatience  which  threatened  to  overmaster  her. 

"See,"  he  said  at  length,  as  they  sat  down  to  rest  on 


A  HARD  y  NORSEMAN:  1 7 1 

one  of  the  moss-covered  bowlders,  "I  will  give  you  now 
while  we  are  quiet  and  alone  the  money  for  your  passage. 
Here  is  a  check  for  fifty  pounds,  you  will  have  time  to 
get  it  cashed  in  Christiania,"  then  as  she  protested  that  it 
was  far  too  much,  "  No,  no  ;  you  will  need  it  all  in  Eng- 
land. It  may  prove  a  long  illness  ;  and,  in  any  case,"  he 
added  awkwardly,  "  there  must  be  expenses." 

Sigrid,  with  a  horrible  choking  in  her  throat,  thanked 
him  for  his  help,  but  that  "in  any  case"  rang  in  her  ears 
all  through  the  drive,  all  through  the  waiting  at  the  hotel 
at  Lille-elvedal,  all  through  that  weary  journey  in  the  train. 

Yet  it  was  not  until  she  stood  on  board  the  Angela  that 
tears  came  to  her  relief.  A  great  crowd  had  collected  on 
the  quays,  for  a  number  of  emigrants  were  crossing  over 
to  England  en  route  for  America.  Sigrid,  standing  there 
all  alone,  watched  many  a  parting,  saw  strong  men  step 
on  to  the  deck  sobbing  like  children,  saw  women  weeping 
as  though  their  hearts  would  break.  And  when  the  crowd 
of  those  left  behind  on  the  quay  began  to  sing  the  songs 
of  the  country,  great  drops  gathered  in  her  eyes  and 
slowly  fell.  They  sang  with  subdued  voices,  "ForNorge. 
Kjaempers  foderland,"  and  "  Det  Norske  Flag."  Last  of 
all,  as  the  great  steamer  slowly  moved  off,  they  sang 
with  a  depth  of  pathos  which  touched  even  the  uncon- 
cerned foreigners  on  board,  "  Ja  vi  elsker  dette  landet." 

The  bustle  and  confusion  on  the  steamer,  the  busy 
sailors,  the  weeping  emigrants,  the  black  mass  of  people 
on  shore  waving  their  hats  and  handkerchiefs,  some 
sobbing,  some  singing  to  cheer  the  travelers,  and  behind, 
the  beautiful  city  of  Christiania  with  its  spires  and  towers, 
all  this  had  to  Sigrid  the  strangest  feeling  of  unreality  ; 
yet  it  was  a  scene  that  no  one  present  could  ever  forget. 
Bravely  the  friends  on  shore  sang  out,  their  voices 
bridging  over  the  widening  waters  of  the  fjord,  the  sweet 
air  well  suiting  the  fervor  of  the  words  : 

"  Yes,  we  love  with  fond  devotion,  Norway's  mountain  domes, 
Rising  storm-lashed  o'er  the  ocean,  with  their  thousand  homes. 
Love  our  country  when  we're  bending  thoughts  to  fathers  grand, 
And  to  saga  night  that's  sending  dreams  upon  our  land. 
Harald  on  its  throne  ascended  by  his  mighty  sword  ; 
Hakon  Norway's  rights  defended,  helped  by  Oyvind's  sword; 
From  the  blood  of  Olaf  sainted,  Christ's  red  cross  arose." 

But  there  the  distance  became  too  great  for  words  to 
traverse  it,  only  the  wild  beauty  of  the  music  floated  after 


172  A  HARDY  NORSEMA  M 

the  outward-bound  vessel,  and  many  a  man  strained  his 
ears  to  listen  to  voices  which  should  never  again  be  heard 
by  him  on  earth,  and  many  a  woman  hid  her  face  and 
sobbed  with  passionate  grief. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

ON  the  following  Monday  afternoon,  Roy  Boniface, 
pale  and  worn  with  all  that  he  had  been  through,  paced 
the  arrival  platform  at  King's  Cross  station.  Already  the 
train  from  Hull  was  signaled  and  he  longed  for  Sigrid's 
advent,  yet  dreaded  unspeakably  the  first  few  moments, 
the  hurried  questions,  the  sad  answers  that  must  follow. 
The  steamer  had  been  hindered  by  a  fog,  and  the  pas- 
sengers had  not  been  landed  at  Hull  until  that  morning, 
so  that  Sigrid  had  only  had  time  to  telegraph  the  hour  of 
her  arrival,  and  had  been  unable  to  wait  for  a  reply  to 
tell  her  of  Frithiofs  state.  He  should  have  to  tell  her  all 
— tell  her  amid  the  unsympathizing  crowd  which  jarred 
upon  him  even  now  ;  for  during  the  last  few  days  he 
had  lived  so  entirely  with  his  patient  that  the  outer 
world  seemed  strange  to  him.  His  heart  beat  quickly  as 
the  engine  darted  into  sight  and  one  carriage  after  another 
flitted  past  him.  For  a  minute  he  could  nowhere  see  her  ; 
but  hastening  up  the  platform,  and  closely  scanning  the 
travelers,  he  at  length  caught  sight  of  the  golden  hair  and 
black  dress  which  he  had  been  imagining  to  himself,  and 
heard  the  clear  voice  saying,  with  something  of  Frithiofs 
quiet  decision  : 

"  It  is  a  black  trunk  from  Hull,  and  the  name  is  Falck." 

Roy  came  quickly  forward,  and  the  instant  she  caught 
sight  of  him  all  her  calmness  vanished. 

"  Frithiof  ?  "  she  asked,  as  he  took  her  hand  in  his. 

"He  is  still  living,"  said  Roy,  not  daring  to  give  an 
evasive  answer  to  the  blue  eyes  which  seemed  to  look 
into  his  very  heart.  Whether  she  had  feared  the  worst, 
or  had  hoped  for  better  news  he  could  hardly  tell,  she 
turned  deathly  white,  and  her  lips  quivered  piteously. 

"I  will  see  to  your  luggage,"  he  said,  "but  before 
you  go  to  him  you  must  have  something  to  eat  ;  I  see 
you  are  quite  worn  out  with  the  long  journey,  and  unless 
you  are  calm  you  will  only  agitate  him." 


A  HARD  Y  NORSEMAN.  1 73 

She  did  not  speak  a  word,  but  passively  allowed  him 
to  take  her  to  the  refreshment-room  and  get  her  some  tea  ; 
she  even  made  a  faint  effort  to  attack  the  roll  and  butter 
which  had  been  placed  before  her,  but  felt  too  completely 
tired  out  to  get  on  with  it.  Roy,  seeing  how  matters 
were,  quietly  drew  the  plate  away,  cut  the  roll  into  thin 
slices,  and  himself  spread  them  for  her.  It  was  months 
since  they  had  parted  at  Balholm  as  friendly  fellow- 
travelers,  yet  it  seemed  now  to  Sigrid  the  most  natural  thing 
in  the  world  to  depend  on  him,  while  he,  at  the  first  glimpse 
of  her  questioning  face,  at  the  first  grasp  of  her  hand,  had 
realized  that  he  loved  her.  After  her  lonely  journey,  with 
its  lack  of  sympathy,  it  was  inexpressibly  comforting  to 
her  to  have  beside  her  one  who  seemed  instantly  to  per- 
ceive just  what  she  needed.  To  please  him,  she  tried 
hard  to  eat  and  drink,  and  before  long  they  were  driving 
to  Vauxhall,  and  all  fear  lest  she  should  break  down 
was  over. 

"Now,"  she  said  at  last,  "  tell  me  more  about  his  ill- 
ness. What  brought  it  on  ? " 

"The  doctor  says  it  must  have  been  brought  on  by  a 
great  shock,  and  it  seems  that  he  heard  very  sad  news 
that  day  of  Lady  Romiaux. " 

"I  knew  it  was  that  wretched  girl  in  some  way,"  cried 
Sigrid  clinching  her  hand.  "  I  wish  she  were  dead  !  " 

He  was  startled  by  her  extreme  bitterness,  for  by  nature 
she  was  gentle,  and  he  had  not  expected  such  vehemence 
from  her. 

"She  is,  as  Frithiof  incessantly  says,  'Worse  than 
dead, '"  replied  Roy.  "It  is  a  miserable  story.  Appar- 
ently he  got  hold  of  some  newspaper,  read  it  all,  and  was 
almost  immediately  broken  down  by  it.  They  say  he 
was  hardly  himself  when  he  left  the  shop  that  night,  and 
the  next  evening,  when  I  saw  him,  I  found  him  deliri- 
ous. " 

"  It  is  his  brain  that  is  affected,  then  ?  "  she  faltered. 

"Yes  ;  he  seems  to  have  been  out  of  health  for  a  long 
time,  but  he  never  would  give  way.  All  the  troubles  of 
last  autumn  told  on  him,  and  this  was  merely,  as  they 
say,  the  last  straw.  But  if  only  we  could  get  him  any 
sleep  he  might  even  now  recover. " 

"  How  long  has  he  been  without  it?  " 

"I  came  to  him  on  Tuesday  evening;  it  was  on  the 
Monday  that  h«  read  that  paragraph,  just  this  day  week, 


174  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

and  he  has  never  slept  since  then.  When  did  my  tele- 
gram reach  you,  by-the-by  ?  " 

"Not  until  Thursday.  You  see,  though  you  sent  it  on 
Wednesday  morning,  yet  it  had  to  be  forwarded  from 
Bergen,  as  we  were  in  an  out-of-the-way  place  on  the 
Dovrefield. " 

"And  you  have  been  traveling  ever  since?  You  must 
be  terribly  worn  out." 

"  Oh,  the  traveling  was  nothing;  it  was  the  terrible 
anxiety  and  the  slowness  of  everything  that  almost  mad- 
dened one.  But  nothing  matters  now.  I  am  at  least  in 
time  to  see  him." 

"This  is  the  house  where  he  is  lodging,"  said  Roy  as 
the  cab  drew  up.  "Are  you  fit  to  go  to  him  now,  or  had 
you  not  better  rest  first  ?  " 

"No,  no,  I  must  go  to  him  directly,"  she  said.  And, 
indeed,  it  seemed  that  the  excitement  had  taken  away  all 
her  fatigue ;  her  cheeks  were  glowing,  her  eyes,  though 
so  wistful,  were  full  of  eagerness.  She  followed  him  into 
the  gloomy  little  house,  spoke  a  courteous  word  or  two 
to  Miss  Charlotte,  who  stood  in  the  passage  to  receive  her, 
and  then  hastily  mounted  the  stairs,  and  entered  the 
darkened  room  where  instead  of  the  excitement  which  she 
had  pictured  to  herself,  there  reigned  an  ominous  calm.  A 
hospital  nurse,  whose  sweet,  strong  face  contrasted  curi- 
ously with  her  funereal  garments,  was  sitting  beside  the 
mattresses,  which,  for  greater  convenience,  had  been 
placed  on  the  floor.  Frithiof  lay  in  the  absolute  stillness 
of  exhaustion,  and  Sigrid,  who  had  never  seen  him  ill, 
was  for  a  moment  almost  overcome.  That  he  who  had 
always  been  so  strong,  so  daring,  so  full  of  life  and 
spirit  should  have  sunk  to  this  !  It  seemed  hardly  pos- 
sible that  the  thin,  worn,  haggard  face  on  the  pillow 
could  be  the  same  face  which  had  smiled  on  her  last  from 
the  deck  of  the  steamer  when  he  had  started  on  that  fatal 
visit  to  the  Morgans.  He  was  talking  incoherently,  and 
twice  she  caught  the  name  of  Blanche. 

"  If  she  were  here  I  could  kill  her  !  "  she  thought  to  her- 
self; but  the  fierce  indignation  died  down  almost  in- 
stantly, for  all  the  tenderness  of  her  womanly  nature  was 
called  out  by  Frithiofs  need. 

"Try  if  you  can  get  him  to  take  this,"  said  the  nurse, 
handing  her  a  cup  of  beef  tea. 

He  took  it  passively,  but  evidently  did  not  in  the  least 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  1 7 5 

recognize  her.  It  was  only  after  some  time  had  gone  by 
that  the  tone  of  her  voice  and  the  sound  of  his  native 
tongue  affected  him.  His  eyes,  which  for  so  many  days 
had  seen  only  the  phantoms  of  his  imagination,  fixed 
themselves  on  her  face,  and  by  degrees  a  light  of  recog- 
nition dawned  in  them. 

"  Sigrid  !  "  he  exclaimed,  in  a  tone  of  such  relief  that 
tears  started  to  her  eyes. 

She  bent  down  and  kissed  him. 

"  I  have  come  to  take  care  of  you.  And  after  you  have 
been  to  sleep  we  will  have  a  long  talk,"  she  said  gently. 
"There,  let  me  make  your  pillows  comfortable." 

Her  presence,  instead  of  exciting  him  to  wonder  or  to 
ask  questions,  acted  upon  him  like  a  soothing  spell. 

"Talk,"  he  said.  "It  is  so  good  to  hear  Norse  once 
more." 

"  I  will  talk  if  you  will  try  to  sleep.  I  will  sit  here  and 
say  you  some  of  Bjornsen's  songs."  And,  with  his  hand 
still  in  hers,  she  said,  in  her  quieting  voice,  "Jeg  har 
sogt,"  and  "Olaf  Trygvason,"  and  "  Prinsessen. " 

This  last  seemed  specially  to  please  him,  and  while, 
for  the  sixth  time,  she  was  repeating  it,  Roy,  who  had 
been  watching  them  intently,  made  her  a  little  sign,  and, 
glancing  down,  she  saw  that  Frithiof  had  fallen  asleep. 
No  one  stirred,  for  they  all  knew  only  too  well  how  much 
depended  on  that  sleep.  The  nurse,  who  was  one  of  those 
cheerful  and  buoyant  characters  that  live  always  in  the 
present — and  usually  in  the  present  of  others — mused 
over  her  three  companions,  and  settled  in  her  practical 
mind  the  best  means  of  relieving  Sigrid  without  disturbing 
the  patient. 

Sigrid  herself  was  living  in  the  past,  and  was  watching 
sadly  enough  Frithiof  s  altered  face.  Could  he  ever  again 
be  the  same  strong,  hardy,  dauntless  fellow  he  had  once 
been?  She  remembered  how  in  the  old  days  he  had 
come  back  from  hunting  fresh  and  invigorated  when 
every  one  else  had  been  tired  out.  She  thought  of  his 
room  in  the  old  home  in  Kalvedalen  with  its  guns  and 
fishing-tackle,  its  reindeer  skins,  and  bear  skins,  its  cases 
of  stuffed  birds,  all  trophies  of  his  prowess.  And  then  she 
looked  round  this  dreary  London  room,  and  thought  how 
wretched  it  must  have  felt  to  him  when  night  after  night 
he  returned  to  it  and  sat  working  at  translations  in  which 
he  could  take  no  sort  of  interest. 


176  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

As  for  Roy,  having  lived  for  so  many  days  in  that  sick- 
room with  scarcely  a  thought  beyond  it,  he  had  now 
plunged  into  a  sudden  reaction  ;  a  great  weight  had  been 
lifted  off  his  shoulders.  Sigrid  had  come,  and  with  one 
bound  he  had  stepped  into  a  bright  future  ;  a  future  in  which 
he  could  always  watch  the  fair,  womanly  face  now  before 
him  ;  a  future  in  which  he  should  have  the  right  to  serve 
and  help  her,  to  shield  her  from  care  and  turn  her  poverty 
to  wealth.  But  that  last  thought  brought  a  certain  anxiety 
with  it.  For  he  fancied  that  Sigrid  was  not  without  a 
share  of  Frithiofs  independent  pride.  If  once  she  could 
love  him  the  question  of  money  could,  of  course,  make 
no  difference,  but  he  feared  that  her  pride  might,  perhaps, 
make  out  of  her  poverty  and  his  riches  a  barrier  which 
should  shut  out  even  the  thought  of  love. 

Of  all  those  who  were  gathered  together  in  that  room, 
Frithiof  was  the  most  entirely  at  rest,  for  at  last  there  had 
come  to  his  relief  the  priceless  gift  of  dreamless  and  un- 
broken sleep.  For  just  as  the  spiritual  life  dies  within  us 
if  we  become  absorbed  in  the  things  of  this  world  and 
neglect  the  timeless  calm  which  is  our  true  state,  so  the 
body  and  mind  sink  if  they  cannot  for  brief  intervals  es- 
cape out  of  the  bonds  of  time  into  the  realms  of  sleep. 
The  others  lived  in  past,  present,  or  future  ;  but  Frithiof 
was  in  that  blissful  state  of  entire  repose  which  builds  up, 
all  unconsciously  to  ourselves,  the  very  fibers  of  our  being. 
What  happens  to  us  in  sleep  that  we  wake  once  more 
like  new  beings?  No  one  can  exactly  explain.  What 
happens  to  us  when 

"  We  kneel  how  weak,  we  rise  how  full  of  power  ? " 

No  one  can  precisely  tell  us.  But  the  facts  remain.  By 
these  means  are  body  and  spirit  renewed. 

For  the  next  day  or  two  Frithiof  realized  little.  To  the 
surprise  and  delight  of  all  he  slept  almost  incessantly, 
waking  only  to  take  food,  to  make  sure  that  Sigrid  was 
with  him,  and  to  enjoy  a  delicious  sense  of  ease  and  relief. 

"  He  is  out  of  the  wood,  now,"  said  Dr.  Morris,  cheer- 
fully. "You  came  just  in  time,  Miss  Falck.  But  I  will 
give  you  one  piece  of  advice ;  if  possible,  stay  in  Eng- 
land and  make  your  home  with  him,  he  ought  not  to  be 
so  much  alone." 

"You  think  that  he  may  have  such  an  attack  again  ?  " 
asked  Sigrid,  wistfully. 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  177 

"  No,  I  don't  say  that  at  all.  He  has  a  wonderful  con- 
stitution, and  there  is  no  reason  why  he  should  ever  break 
down  again.  But  he  is  more  likely  to  get  depressed  if  he 
is  alone,  and  you  will  be  able  to  prevent  his  life  from 
growing  too  monotonous." 

So  as  she  lived  through  those  quiet  days  in  the  sick- 
room, Sigrid  racked  her  brain  to  think  of  some  way  of 
making  money,  and  searched,  as  so  many  women  have 
done  before  her,  the  columns  of  the  newspapers,  and  made 
fruitless  inquiries,  and  wasted  both  time  and  money  in  the 
attempt.  One  day,  Roy,  coming  in  at  his  usual  hour  in 
the  morning  to  relieve  guard,  brought  her  a  fat  envelope 
which  he  had  found  waiting  for  her  in  the  hall.  She 
opened,  it  eagerly,  and  made  a  little  exclamation  of  dis- 
appointment and  vexation. 

"  Anything  wrong?  "  he  asked. 

She  began  to  laugh,  though  he  fancied  he  saw  tears  in 
her  eyes.  "Oh,"  she  said,  "it  seems  so  ridiculous  when 
I  had  been  expecting  such  great  things  from  it.  You 
know  I  have  been  trying  to  hear  of  work  in  London,  and 
there  was  an  advertisement  in  the  paper  which  said  that 
two  pounds  a  week  might  easily  be  realized,  either  by 
men  or  women,  without  interfering  with  their  present  oc- 
cupations, and  that  all  particulars  would  be  given  on  the 
receipt  of  eighteenpence.  So  I  sent  the  money,  and  here 
is  a  wretched  aluminium  pencil  in  return,  and  I  am  to 
make  this  two  pounds  a  week  by  getting  orders  for 
them." 

The  absurdity  of  the  whole  thing  struck  her  more  forci- 
bly and  she  laughed  again  more  merrily ;  Roy  laughed 
too. 

"  Have  you  made  any  other  attempts  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Oh  yes,"  said  Sigrid,  "  I  began  to  try  in  Norway,  and 
even  attempted  a  story  and  sent  it  to  one  of  our  best 
novelists  to  ask  his  opinion." 

"And  what  did  he  say  ?  " 

"Well,"  she  said,  smiling.  "He  wrote  back  very 
kindly,  but  said  that  he  could  not  conscientiously  recom- 
mend any  one  to  write  stories  whose  sole  idea  in  taking 
up  the  profession  was  the  making  of  money.  My  con- 
science pricked  me  there,  and  so  I  never  tried  writing  again 
and  never  will.  Then  the  other  day  I  wrote  to  another 
place  which  advertised,  and  got  back  a  stupid  bundle  of 
embroidery  patterns.  It  is  mere  waste  of  money  answer- 

12 


178  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

ing  these  things.  They  say  women  can  earn  a  guinea  a 
time  for  shaving  poodles,  but  you  see  I  have  no  experi- 
ence in  poodles,"  and  she  laughed  merrily. 

Roy  sat  musing  over  the  perplexities  of  ordinary  life. 
Here  was  he  with  more  money  than  he  knew  what  to  do 
with,  and  here  was  the  woman  he  loved  struggling  in 
vain  to  earn  a  few  shillings.  Yet,  the  mere  fact  that  he 
worshiped  her,  made  him  chivalrously  careful  to  avoid 
laying  her  under  any  obligation.  As  far  as  possible  he 
would  serve  her,  but  in  this  vital  question  of  money  it 
seemed  that  he  could  only  stand  aside  and  watch  her 
efforts.  Nor  did  he  dare  to  confess  the  truth  to  her  as 
yet,  for  he  perceived  quite  plainly  that  she  was  absorbed 
in  Frithiof  and  could  not  possibly  for  some  time  to  come 
be  free  even  to  consider  her  own  personal  life.  Clearly 
at  present  she  regarded  him  with  that  frank  friendliness 
which  he  remembered  well  at  Balholm,  and  in  his  help- 
fulness had  discerned  nothing  that  need  be  construed  as 
the  attentions  of  a  lover.  After  all  he  was  her  brother's 
sole  friend  in  England  and  it  was  natural  enough  that  he 
should  do  all  that  he  could  for  them. 

"My  father  and  mother  come  home  to-night,"  he  said, 
at  length,  "and  if  you  will  allow  me  I  will  ask  them  if 
they  know  of  anything  likely  to  suit  you.  Cecil  will  be 
very  anxious  to  meet  you  again.  Don't  you  think  you 
might  go  for  a  drive  with  her  to-morrow  afternoon  ?  I 
would  be  here  with  your  brother." 

"Oh,  I  should  so  like  to  meet  her  again,"  said  Sigrid, 
"  we  all  liked  her  so  much  last  summer.  I  don't  feel  that 
I  really  know  her  at  all  yet,  for  she  is  not  very  easy  to 
know,  but  she  interested  me  just  because  of  that." 

"I  don't  think  any  one  can  know  Cecil  who  has  not 
lived  with  her,"  said  Roy,  "she  is  so  very  reserved." 

"Yes  ;  at  first  I  thought  she  was  just  gentle  and  quiet 
without  very  much  character,  but  one  day  when  we  were 
out  together  we  tried  to  get  some  branches  of  willow. 
They  were  so  stiff  to  break  that  I  lazily  gave  up,  but 
she  held  on  to  hers  with  a  strong  look  in  her  face  which 
quite  startled  me,  and  said  :  'I  can't  be  beaten  just  by  a 
branch." 

"That  is  Cecil  all  over,"  said  Roy,  smiling;  "she 
never  would  let  anything  daunt  her.  May  I  tell  her  that 
you  will  see  her  to-morrow  ?  " 

Sigrid  gladly  assented,  and  the  next  day  both  Mrs.  Boni- 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  179 

face  and  Cecil  drove  to  the  little  house  at  Vauxhall. 
Roy  brought  Sigrid  down  to  the  carriage,  and  with  a  very 
happy  satisfied  feeling  introduced  her  to  his  mother,  and 
watched  the  warm  meeting  with  Cecil. 

"  I  can't  think  what  would  have  become  of  Frithiof  if 
it  had  not  been  for  all  your  kindness,"  said  Sigrid. 
"Your  son  has  practically  saved  his  life,  I  am  sure,  by 
taking  care  of  him  through  his  illness." 

"And  the  worst  is  over  now,  I  hope,"  said  Mrs.  Boni- 
face. "That  is  such  a  comfort." 

At  the  first  moment  Sigrid  had  fallen  in  love  with  the 
sweet-natured,  motherly  old  lady,  and  now  she  opened 
all  her  heart  to  her,  and  they  discussed  the  sad  cause  of 
Frithiof s  breakdown,  and  talked  of  past  days  in  Norway, 
and  of  the  future  that  lay  before  him,  Cecil  listening 
with  that  absolute  command  of  countenance  which  be- 
tokens a  strong  nature,  and  her  companions  little  dream- 
ing that  their  words,  though  eagerly  heard,  were  like  so 
many  sword-thrusts  to  her.  The  neat  brougham  of  the 
successful  tradesman  might  have  seemed  prosaic  enough, 
and  an  unlikely  place  in  which  to  find  any  romance,  but 
nevertheless  the  three  occupants  with  their  joys  and  sor- 
rows, their  hopes  and  fears,  were  each  living  out  an  ab- 
sorbing life  story.  For  every  heart  has  its  own  romance, 
and  whether  living  in  the  fierce  glare  of  a  palace,  in  the 
whirl  of  society,  in  a  quiet  London  suburb,  or  in  an  East- 
end  court,  it  is  all  the  same.  The  details  differ,  the  ac- 
cessories are  strangely  different,  but  the  love  which  is  the 
great  mainspring  of  life  is  precisely  the  same  all  the  world 
over. 

"What  makes  me  so  miserable,"  said  Sigrid,  "is  to 
feel  that  his  life  is,  as  it  were,  over,  though  he  is  so 
young  ;  it  has  been  spoiled  and  ruined  for  him  when  he  is 
but  one-and-twenty. " 

"But  the  very  fact  of  his  being  so  young,  seems  to  me 
to  give  hope  that  brighter  things  are  in  store  for  him," 
said  Mrs.  Boniface. 

"  I  do  not  think  so,"  said  Sigrid.  "  That  girl  has  taken 
something  from  him  which  can  never  come  again  :  it  does 
not  seem  to  me  possible  that  a  man  can  love  like  that 
twice  in  a  lifetime." 

"Perhaps  not  just  in  that  way,"  said  Mrs.  Boniface. 

"And  besides,"  said  Sigrid,  "what  girl  would  care  to 
take  such  love  as  he  might  now  be  able  to  give  ?  I  am 


I  So  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

sure  nothing  would  induce  me  to  accept  any  secondary 
love  of  that  kind." 

She  spoke  as  a  perfectly  heart-whole  girl,  frankly  and 
unreservedly.  And  what  she  said  was  true.  She  never 
could  have  been  satisfied  with  less  than  the  whole  ;  it  was 
her  nature  to  exact  much  ;  she  could  love  very  devotedly, 
but  she  would  jealously  demand  an  equal  devotion  in 
return. 

Now  Cecil  was  of  a  wholly  different  type.  Already 
love  had  taken  possession  of  her,  it  had  stolen  into  her 
heart  almost  unconsciously  and  had  brought  grave 
shadows  into  her  quiet  life — shadows  cast  by  the  sorrow 
of  another.  Her  notion  of  love  was  simply  freedom  to 
love  and  serve ;  to  give  her  this  freedom  there  must,  of 
course,  be  true  love  on  the  other  side,  but  of  its  kind  or 
of  its  degree  she  would  never  trouble  herself  to  think  ;  for 
already  her  love  was  so  pure  and  deep  that  it  rendered 
her  almost  selfless.  Sigrid's  speech  troubled  her  for  a 
minute  or  two  ;  if  one  girl  could  speak  so,  why  not  all 
girls?  Was  she  perhaps  less  truly  womanly  that  she 
thought  less  of  what  was  owing  to  herself? 

"  It  may  be  so,"  she  admitted,  yet  with  a  latent  con- 
sciousness that  so  infinite  a  thing  as  love  could  not  be 
bound  by  any  hard  and  fast  rules.  "But  I  cannot  help  it. 
Whether  it  is  womanly  or  not,  I  would  die  to  give  him 
the  least  real  comfort. " 

"Tell  Harris  to  stop,  Cecil, "said  Mrs.  Boniface.  "We 
will  get  some  grapes  for  Mr.  Falck. " 

And,  glad  to  escape  from  the  carriage  for  a  minute,  and 
glad,  too,  to  be  of  use  even  in  such  a  far-off  way,  Cecil 
went  into  the  fruiterer's,  returning  before  long  with  a 
beautiful  basket  of  grapes  and  flowers. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

"SEE  what  I  have  brought  you,"  said  Sigrid,  re-enter- 
ing the  sick-room  a  little  later  on. 

Frithiof  took  the  basket  and  looked,  with  a  pleasure 
which,  a  few  weeks  ago,  would  have  been  impossible  to 
him,  at  the  lovely  flowers  and  fruit. 

"You  have  come  just  at  the  right  time,  for  he  will  in- 


A  HARD  Y  NORSEMAN.  T S t 

sist  on  talking  of  all  the  deepest  things  in  heaven  and 
earth,"  said  Roy,  "and  this  makes  a  good  diversion." 

"  They  are  from  Mrs.  Boniface.  Is  it  not  kind  of  her  ? 
And  do  you  know,  Frithiof,  she  and  Doctor  Morris  have 
been  making  quite  a  deep  plot ;  they  want  to  transplant 
us  bodily  to  Rowan  Tree  House,  and  Dr.  Morris  thinks  the 
move  could  do  you  no  harm  now  that  you  are  getting 
better." 

His  face  lighted  up  with  something  of  its  former  ex- 
pression. 

"How  I  should  like  never  to  see  this  hateful  room 
again  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "You  don't  know  how  I  detest 
it.  The  old  ghosts  seem  to  haunt  it  still.  There  is  noth- 
ing that  I  can  bear  to  look  at  except  your  picture  of 
Bergen,  which  has  done  me  more  than  one  good  turn." 

Sigrid,  partly  to  keep  him  from  talking  too  much, 
partly  because  she  always  liked  to  tell  people  of  that  little 
act  of  kindness,  gave  Roy  the  history  of  the  picture,  and 
Frithiof  lay  musing  over  the  curious  relative  power  of 
kindness  and  cruelty,  and  was  obliged,  though  somewhat 
reluctantly,  to  admit  to  himself  that  a  very  slight  act  of 
kindness  certainly  did  exert  an  enormous  and  unthought- 
of  influence. 

Physical  disorder  had  had  much  to  do  with  the  back 
view  of  life  which  he  had  held  for  the  last  few  months, 
but  now  that  the  climax  had  been  reached  and  rest  had 
been  forced  upon  him  his  very  exhaustion  and  helpless- 
ness enabled  him  to  see  a  side  of  life  which  had  never  be- 
fore been  visible  to  him.  He  was  very  much  softened  by 
all  that  he  had  been  through.  It  seemed  that  while  the 
events  of  the  past  year  had  imbittered  and  hardened  him, 
this  complete  break  down  of  bodily  strength  had  brought 
back  something  of  his  old  nature.  The  bright  enjoyment 
of  mere  existence  could,  of  course,  never  return  to  him, 
but  still,  notwithstanding  the  scar  of  his  old  wound,  there 
came  to  him  during  those  days  of  his  convalescence  a 
sense  of  keen  pleasure  in  Sigrid's  presence,  in  his  gradu- 
ally returning  strength,  and  in  the  countless  little  acts  of 
kindness  which  everybody  showed  him. 

The  change  to  Rowan  Tree  House  seemed  to  work 
wonders  in  him.  The  house  had  always  charmed  him, 
and  the  recollection  of  the  first  time  he  had  entered  it, 
using  it  as  a  shelter  from  the  storm  of  life,  much  as  Roy 
and  Cecil  had  used  his  father's  house  as  a  shelter  from  the 


182  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

drenching- rain  of  Bergen,  returned  to  him  again  and  again 
through  the  quiet  weeks  that  followed.  The  past  year 
looked  now  to  him  like  a  nightmare  to  a  man  who  has 
awakened  in  broad  daylight.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he 
was  lying  at  the  threshold  of  a  new  life,  worn  and  tired 
with  the  old  life,  it  was  true,  yet  with  a  gradually  increas- 
ing interest  in  what  lay  beyond,  and  a  perception  that 
there  were  many  things  of  which  he  had  as  yet  but  the 
very  faintest  notion. 

Sigrid  told  him  all  the  details  of  her  life  in  Norway 
since  they  had  last  seen  each  other,  of  her  refusal  of  Tor- 
vald  Lundgren,  of  her  relations  with  her  aunt,  of  the  early 
morning  on  Hjerkinsho.  And  her  story  touched  him. 
When,  stirred  by  all  that  had  happened  into  unwonted 
earnestness,  she  owned  to  him  that  after  that  morning  on 
the  mountain  everything  had  seemed  different,  he  did 
not,  as  he  would  once  have  done,  laughingly  change 
the  subject,  or  say  that  religion  was  all  very  well  for 
women. 

"  It  was  just  as  if  I  had  worn  a  crape  veil  all  my  life," 
she  said,  looking  up  from  her  work  for  a  moment  with 
those  clear,  blue,  practical  eyes  of  hers.  "And  up  there 
on  the  mountain  it  seemed  as  if  some  one  had  lifted  it 
quite  away." 

Her  words  stirred  within  him  an  uneasy  sense  of  loss, 
a  vague  desire,  which  he  had  once  or  twice  felt  before. 
He  was  quite  silent  for  some  time,  lying  back  idly  in  his 
chair  and  watching  her  as  she  worked. 

"Sigrid  !  "  he  said  at  last,  with  a  suppressed  eagerness 
in  his  voice,  "  Sigrid,  you  won't  go  back  again  to  Nor- 
way and  leave  me  ?  " 

"No,  dear,  I  will  never  leave  you,"  she  said  warmly. 
"I  will  try  to  find  some  sort  of  work.  To-night  I  mean 
to  talk  to  Mr.  Boniface  about  it.  Surely  in  this  huge 
place  there  must  be  something  I  can  do." 

"It  is  its  very  hugeness  that  makes  one  despair,"  said 
Frithiof.  "  Good  God !  what  I  went  through  last  autumn  ! 
And  there  are  thousands  in  the  same  plight,  thousands 
who  would  work  if  only  they  could  meet  with  employ- 
ment." 

"  Discussing  the  vexed  question  of  the  unemployed?" 
said  Mr.  Boniface,  entering  the  room  in  time  to  hear  this 
last  remark. 

"  Yes,"  said  Sigrid,  smiling.     "  Though  I'm  a  wretched 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  1 83 

foreigner  come  to  swell  their  number.  But  what  can  be 
the  cause  of  such  distress  ? " 

"I  think  it  is  this,"  said  Mr.  Boniface,  "population 
goes  on  increasing,  but  practical  Christianity  does  not 
increase  at  the  same  rate." 

"Are  you  what  they  call  a  Christian  Socialist  ?  "  asked 
Sigrid. 

"No  ;  I  am  not  very  fond  of  assuming  any  distinctive 
party  name,  and  the  Socialists  seem  to  me  to  look  too 
much  to  compulsion.  You  can't  make  people  practical 
Christians  by  Act  of  Parliament ;  you  have  no  right  to 
force  the  rich  to  relieve  the  poor.  The  nation  suffers,  and 
all  things  are  at  a  dead-lock  because  so  many  of  us  neg- 
lect our  duty.  If  we  argued  less  about  the  '  masses,'  and 
quietly  did  as  we  would  be  done  by  to  those  with  whom 
life  brings  us  into  contact,  I  believe  the  distress  would 
soon  be  at  an  end." 

"Do  you  mean  by  that  private  almsgiving?"  asked 
Frithiof.  "Surely  that  can  only  pauperize  the  people." 

"I  certainly  don't  mean  indiscriminate  almsgiving," 
said  Mr.  Boniface;  "I  mean  only  this.  You  start  with 
your  own  family ;  do  your  duty  by  them.  You  have  a 
constant  succession  of  servants  passing  through  your 
household ;  be  a  friend  to  them.  You  have  men  and 
women  in  your  employ ;  share  their  troubles.  Perhaps 
you  have  tenants  ;  try  to  look  at  life  from  their  point  of 
view.  If  we  all  tried  to  do  this  the  cure  would  indeed  be 
found,  and  the  breach  between  the  rich  and  poor  bridged 
over." 

How  simply  and  unostentatiously  Mr.  Boniface  lived 
out  his  own  theory  Frithiof  knew  quite  well.  He  re- 
flected that  all  the  kindness  he  himself  had  received  had 
not  tended  to  pauperize  him,  had  not  in  the  least  crushed 
his  independence  or  injured  his  self-respect.  On  the  con- 
trary, it  had  saved  him  from  utter  ruin,  and  had  awakened 
in  him  a  gratitude  which  would  last  all  his  life.  But  this 
new  cure  was  not  to  depend  only  on  taxation  or  on  the 
state,  but  on  a  great  influence  working  within  each  indi- 
vidual. The  idea  set  him  thinking,  and  the  sense  of  his 
own  ignorance  weighed  upon  him. 

One  morning  it  chanced  that,  sitting  out  in  the  veranda 
at  the  back  ot  the  house,  he  overheard  Lance's  reading- 
lesson,  which  was  going  on  in  the  morning-room.  Sounds 
of  laborious  wrestling  with  the  difficulties  of  "Fata  fat 


184  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

cat,"  and  other  interesting  injunctions,  made  him  realize 
how  very  slow  human  nature  is  to  learn  any  perfectly 
new  thing,  and  how  toilsome  are  first  steps.  Presently 
came  a  sound  of  trotting  feet. 

"Gwen!  Gwen  !"  shouted  Lance,  "come  here  to  us. 
Cecil  is  going  to  read  to  us  out  of  her  Bible,  and  it's 
awfully  jolly !  " 

He  heard  a  stifled  laugh  from  Cecil. 

"Oh,  Lance,"  she  said,  "  Gwen  is  much  too  young  to 
care  for  it.  Come,  shut  the  door,  and  we  will  begin." 

Again  came  the  sound  of  trotting  feet,  then  Cecil's  clear, 
low  voice.  "What  story  do  you  want?" 

"Read  about  the  three  men  walking  in  the  fender  and 
the  fairy  coming  to  them,"  said  Lance,  promptly. 

"Not  a  fairy,  Lance." 

"Oh,  I  mean  a  angel,"  he  replied,  apologetically. 

So  she  read  him  his  favorite  story  of  Nebuchadnezzar 
the  king,  and  the  golden  image,  and  the  three  men  who 
would  not  bow  down  to  it. 

"You  see,"  she  said  at  the  end,  "they  were  brave 
men  ;  they  would  not  do  what  they  knew  to  be  wrong. 
We  want  you  to  grow  like  them." 

There  was  a  silence,  broken  at  last  by  Lance. 

"  I  will  only  hammer  nails  in  wood,"  he  said  gravely. 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Cecil,  not  quite  seeing 
the  connection. 

"  Not  into  the  tables  and  chairs,"  said  Lance,  who  had 
clearly  transgressed  in  this  matter,  and  had  applied  the 
story  to  his  own  life  with  amusing  simplicity. 

"That's  right, "said  Cecil.  "God  will  be  pleased  if 
you  try. " 

"  He  can  see  us,  but  we  can't  see  Him,"  said  Lance,  in 
his  sweet  childish  tones,  quietly  telling  forth  in  implicit 
trust  the  truth  that  many  a  man  longs  to  believe. 

A  minute  after  he  came  dancing  out  into  the  garden, 
his  short  sunny  curls  waving  in  the  summer  wind,  his 
cheeks  glowing,  his  hazel  eyes  and  innocent  little  mouth 
beaming  with  happiness. 

"  He  looks  like  an  incarnate  smile,"  thought  Frithiof. 

And  then  he  remembered  what  Roy  had  told  him  of  the 
father  and  mother,  and  he  thought  how  much  trouble 
awaited  the  poor  child,  and  felt  the  same  keen  wish  that 
Cecil  had  felt  that  he  might  be  brought  up  in  a  way  which 
should  make  him  able  to  resist  whatever  evil  tendencies 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  185 

he  had  inherited.  "  If  anything  can  save  him  it  will  be 
such  a  home  as  this,"  he  reflected. 

Then,  as  Cecil  came  out  into  the  veranda,  he  joined  her, 
and  they  walked  together  down  one  of  the  shady  garden 
paths. 

"  I  overheard  your  pupil  this  morning,"  he  began,  and 
they  laughed  together  over  the  child's  quaint  remarks. 
"That  was  very  good,  his  turning  the  story  to  practical 
account  all  by  himself.  He  is  a  lucky  little  beggar  to 
have  you  for  his  teacher.  I  wonder  what  makes  a  child 
so  ready  to  swallow  quite  easily  the  most  difficult  things 
in  heaven  and  earth  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  because  he  knows  he  can't  altogether'under- 
stand,  and  is  willing  to  take  things  on  trust,"  said  Cecil. 

"  If  anything  can  keep  him  straight  when  he  grows  up 
it  will  be  what  you  have  taught  him, "  said  Frithiof.  ' '  You 
wonder  that  I  admit  that,  and  a  year  ago  I  couldn't  have 
said  as  much,  but  I  begin  to  think  that  there  is  after  all  a 
very  great  restraining  power  in  the  old  faith.  The  diffi- 
culty is  to  get  up  any  sort  of  interest  in  that  kind  of  thing." 

"  You  talk  as  if  it  were  a  sort  of  science,"  said  Cecil. 

"That  is  precisely  what  it  seems  to  me;  and  just  as 
one  man  is  born  with  a  love  of  botany,  another  takes 
naturally  to  astronomy,  and  a  third  has  no  turn  for 
science  whatever,  but  is  fond  of  hunting  and  fishing,  so 
it  seems  to  me  with  religion.  All  of  you,  perhaps,  have 
inherited  the  tendency  from  your  Puritan  forefathers,  but 
I  have  inherited  quite  the  opposite  tendency  from  my 
Viking  ancestors.  Like  them,  I  prefer  to  love  my  friend 
and  hate  my  enemy,  and  go  through  life  in  the  way  that 
best  pleases  me.  I  am  not  a  reading  man  ;  I  can't  get 
up  the  faintest  sort  of  interest  in  these  religious  matters." 

"We  are  talking  of  two  different  things,"  said  Cecil. 
"It  is  of  the  mere  framework  of  religion  that  you  are 
speaking.  Very  likely  many  of  us  are  born  without  any 
taste  for  theology,  or  sermons,  or  Church  history.  We 
are  not  boitnd  surely  to  force  up  an  interest  in  them." 

"  Then  if  all  that  is  not  religion,  pray  what  is  it?  You 
are  not  like  Miss  Charlotte,  who  uses  phrases  without 
analyzing  them.  What  do  you  mean  by  religion  ?  " 

"  I  mean  knowing  and  loving  God,"  she  said  after  a 
moment's  pause. 

Her  tone  was  very  gentle,  and  not  in  the  least  di- 
dactic. 


lS6  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

"  I  have  believed  in  a  God  always — r?  ••/•»  or  less,"  said 
Frithiof  slowly.  "But  how  do  you  pet.  /•»  know  Him?" 

"  I  think  it  is  something  in  the  sarnt  way  that  people 
get  to  know  each  other,"  said  Cecil.  '•  Cousin  James 
Horner,  for  instance,  sees  my  fetner  every  day,  he  has 
often  stayed  in  the  same  house  with  him,  and  has  in  a 
sense  known  him  all  his  lite,  but  he  uoesn't  really  know 
him  at  all.  He  never  takes  the  trouble  really  to  know 
any  one.  He  sees  the  ou'cside  of  my  faiuer — that  is  all. 
They  have  hardly  anything  in  common.' 

"  Mr.  Horner  is  so  lull  of  himself  and  m«  own  opinions 
that  he  never  could  appreciate  such  a  man  a»  your  father, " 
said  Frithiof.  Then,  perceiving  that  his  *.-vvn  mouth  had 
condemned  him,  he  relapsed  into  silence.  "  What  is  your 
receipt,  now,  for  getting  to  know  a  p«wson  ?  "  he  said 
presently  with  a  smile. 

"  First,"  she  said  thoughtfully,  "a  desire  to  know  and 
a  willingness  to  be  known.  Then  I  think  one  must 
forget  one's  self  as  much  as  possible,  and  try  to  under- 
stand the  feelings,  and  words,  and  acts  of  the  one  you 
wish  to  know  in  the  light  of  the  whole  life,  or  as  much  as 
you  can  learn  of  it,  not  merely  of  the  present.  Then, 
too,  I  am  quite  sure  that  you  must  be  alone  together,  for 
it  is  only  alone  that  people  will  talk  of  the  most  real 
things." 

He  was  silent,  trying  in  his  own  mind  to  fit  her  words 
to  his  own  need. 

"  Then  you  don't  think,  as  some  do,  that  when  once 
we  set  out  with  a  real  desire  all  the  rest  is  quite  easy  and 
to  be  drifted  into  without  any  special  effort. " 

"  No,"  she  said,  "I  do  not  believe  in  drifting.  And  if 
we  were  not  so  lazy  I  believe  we  should  all  of  us  know 
more  of  God.  It  is  somehow  difficult  to  take  quite  so 
much  pains  about  that  as  about  other  things." 

"  It  can't  surely  be  difficult  to  you  ;  it  always  seems  to 
be  easy  to  women,  but  to  us  men  all  is  so  different." 

"  Are  you  so  sure  of  that  ? "  she  said  quietly. 

"  I  have  always  fancied  so,"  he  replied.  "Why,  the 
very  idea  of  shutting  one's  self  in  alone  to  think — to  pray 
— it  is  so  utterly  unnatural  to  a  man." 

"  I  suppose  the  harder  it  is  the  more  it  is  necessary," 
said  Cecil.  "But  our  Lord  was  not  always  praying  on 
mountains  ;  he  was  living  a  quite  ordinary  shop  life,  and 
must  have  been  as  busy  as  you  are." 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  187 

Her  words  startled  him  ;  everything  connected  with 
Christianity  had  been  to  him  lifeless,  unreal,  formal — 
something  utterly  apart  from  the  every-day  life  of  a  nine- 
teenth century  man.  She  had  told  him  that  to  her  relig- 
ion meant  "knowing  "and  "loving,  "and  he  now  perceived 
that  by  "  loving  "  she  meant  the  active  living  of  the  Christ- 
life,  the  constant  endeavor  to  do  the  will  of  God.  She 
had  not  actually  said  this  in  so  many  words,  but  he 
knew  more  plainly  than  if  she  had  spoken  that  this  was 
her  meaning. 

They  paced  in  silence  the  shady  garden  walk.  To 
Frithiof  the  whole  world  seemed  wider  than  it  had  ever 
been  before.  On  the  deadly  monotony  of  his  business 
life  there  had  arisen  a  light  which  altogether  transformed 
it.  He  did  his  best  even  now  to  quench  its  brightness, 
and  said  to  himself,  "This  will  not  last;  I  shall  hate 
desk  and  counter  and  all  the  rest  of  it  as  badly  as  ever 
when  I  go  back."  For  it  was  his  habit  since  Blanche  had 
deceived  him  to  doubt  the  lastingness  of  all  that  he  desired 
to  keep.  Still,  though  he  doubted  for  the  future,  the 
present  was  wonderfully  changed,  and  the  new  idea 
that  had  come  into  his  life  was  the  best  medicine  he 
could  have  had. 

Sigrid  watched  his  returning  strength  with  delight ; 
indeed,  perhaps  she  never  realized  what  he  had  been 
during  his  lonely  months  of  London  life.  She  had  not 
seen  the  bitterness,  the  depression,  the  hardness,  the  too 
evident  deterioration  which  had  saddened  Cecil's  heart 
through  the  winter  and  spring  ;  and  she  could  not  see  as 
Cecil  saw  how  he  was  struggling  up  now  into  a  nobler 
manhood.  Roy  instinctively  felt  it.  Mr.  Boniface,  with 
his  ready  sympathy  and  keen  insight,  found  out  some- 
thing of  the  true  state  of  the  case  ;  but  only  Cecil  actually 
knew  it.  She  had  had  to  bear  the  worst  of  the  suffering 
all  through  those  long  months,  and  it  was  but  fair  that  the 
joy  should  be  hers  alone. 

Frithiof  hardly  knew  which  part  of  the  day  was  most 
pleasant  to  him,  the  quiet  mornings  after  Mr.  Boniface 
and  Roy  had  gone  to  town,  when  he  and  Sigrid  were  left 
to  their  own  devices  ;  the  pleasant  little  break  at  eleven, 
when  Mrs.  Boniface  looked  in  to  remind  them  that  fruit 
was  gold  in  the  morning,  and  to  tempt  him  with  pears 
and  grapes,  while  Cecil  and  the  two  children  came  in 
from  the  garden,  bringing  %v«h  tftem  a  sense  of  freshness 


i88  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

and  life  ;  the  drowsy  summer  afternoon  when  he  dozed 
over  a  novel ;  the  drive  in  the  cool  of  the  day,  and  the 
delightful  home  evenings  with  music  and  reading  aloud. 

Quiet  the  life  was,  it  is  true,  but  dull  never.  Every 
one  had  pjenty  to  do,  yet  not  too  much,  for  Mr.  Boniface 
had  a  horror  of  the  modern  craze  for  rushing  into  all  sorts 
of  philanthropic  undertakings,  would  have  nothing  to  do 
with  bazars,  groaned  inwardly  when  he  was  obliged  by 
a  sense  of  duty  to  attend  any  public  meeting,  and  pro- 
tested vehemently  against  the  multiplication  of  "Socie- 
ties." 

"  I  have  a  pet  Society  of  my  own,"  he  used  to  say  with 
a  smile.  "It  is  the  Keeping  at  Home  Society.  Every 
householder  is  his  own  president,  and  the  committee  is 
formed  by  his  family." 

Notwithstanding  this,  he  was  the  most  widely  charita- 
ble man,  and  was  always  ready  to  lend  a  helping  hand  ; 
but  he  loved  to  work  quietly,  and  all  who  belonged  to 
him  caught  something  of  the  same  tone,  so  that  in  the 
house  there  was  a  total  absence  of  that  wearing  whirl  of 
good  works  in  which  many  people  live  nowadays,  and 
though  perhaps  they  had  not  so  many  irons  in  the  fire, 
yet  the  work  they  did  was  better  done  in  consequence, 
and  the  home  remained  what  it  was  meant  to  be,  a  center 
of  love  and  life,  not  a  mere  eating-house  and  dormitory. 

Into  the  midst  of  this  home  there  had  come  now  some 
strangely  fresh  elements.  Three  distinct  romances  were 
being  worked  out  beneath  that  quiet  roof.  There  was 
poor  Frithiof  with  his  shattered  life,  his  past  an  agony 
which  would  scarcely  bear  thinking  of,  his  future  a  des- 
perate struggle  with  circumstances.  There  was  Cecil, 
whose  life  was  so  far  bound  up  with  his  that  when  he 
suffered  she  suffered  too,  yet  had  to  live  on  with  a  serene 
face  and  make  no  sign.  There  was  Roy  already  madly 
in  love  with  the  blue-eyed,  fair-haired  Sigrid,  who  seemed 
in  the  glad  reaction  after  all  her  troubles  to  have  developed 
into  a  totally  different  being,  and  was  the  life  of  the  party. 
And  yet  in  spite  of  the  inevitable  pain  of  love,  these  were 
happy  days  for  all  of  them.  Happy  to  Frithiof  because 
his  strength  was  returning  to  him  ;  because,  with  an  iron 
resolution,  he  as  far  as  possible  shut  out  the  remembrance 
of  Blanche  ;  because  the  spirit  life  within  him  was  slowly 
developing,  and  for  the  first  time  he  had  become  con- 
scious that  it  was  a  reality. 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  189 

Happy  for  Cecil  because  her  love  was  no  foolish  sent- 
mentality,  no  selfish  day-dream,  but  a  noble  love  which 
taught  her  more  than  anything  else  could  possibly  have 
done  ;  because  instead  of  pining  away  at  the  thought 
that  Frithiof  was  utterly  indifferent  to  her,  she  took  it  on 
trust  that  God  would  withhold  from  her  no  really  good 
thing,  and  made  the  most  of  the  trifling  ways  in  which  she 
could  at  present  help  him.  Happiest  of  all  perhaps  for 
Roy,  because  his  love  story  was  full  of  bright  hope — a  hope 
that  each  day  grew  fuller  and  clearer. 

"Robin,"  said  Mrs.  Boniface  one  evening  to  her  hus- 
band, as  together  they  paced  to  and  fro  in  the  veranda, 
while  Frithiof  was  being  initiated  into  lawn-tennis  in  the 
garden,  "  I  think  Sigrid  Falck  is  one  of  the  sweetest  girls 
I  ever  saw." 

"  So  thinks  some  one  else  if  I  am  not  much  mistaken," 
he  replied. 

"  Then  so  you,  too,  have  noticed  it.  I  am  so  glad.  I 
hoped  it  was  so,  but  could  not  feel  sure.  Oh,  Robin,  I 
wonder  if  he  has  any  chance  ?  She  would  make  him  such 
a  sweet  little  wife." 

"  How  can  we  tell  that  she  has  not  left  her  heart  in 
Norway  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  think  so,"  said  Mrs.  Boniface.  "  No,  I  feel 
sure  that  can't  be,  from  the  way  in  which  she  speaks  of 
her  life  there.  If  there  is  any  rival  to  be  feared  it  is 
Frithiof.  They  seem  to  me  wrapped  up  in  each  other, 
and  it  is  only  natural  too,  aft^r  all  their  trouble  and  sep- 
aration and  this  illness  of  his.  How  strong1  he  is  getting1 
again,  and  how  naturally  he  takes  to  the  game  !  He  is 
such  a  fine-looking  fellow,  somehow  he  dwarfs  every  one 
else,"  and  she  glanced  across  to  the  opposite  side  of  the 
lawn,  where  Roy  with  his  more  ordinary  height  and  build 
certainly  did  seem  somewhat  eclipsed.  And  yet  to  het 
motherly  eyes  that  honest,  open.  English  face,  with  its 
sunburned  skin,  was  perhaps  the  fairest  sight  in  the 
world. 

Not  that  she  was  a  blindly  and  foolishly  loving  mother, 
she  knew  that  he  had  his  faults.  But  she  knew  too  that 
he  was  a  sterling  fellow,  and  that  he  would  make  the 
woman  he  married  perfectly  happy. 

They  were  so  taken  up  with  thoughts  of  the  visible  ro- 
mance that  was  going'  on  beneath  their  eyes,  that  it  never 
occurred  to  them  to  think  of  what  might  be  passing  in  the 


190  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

minds  of  the  two  on  the  other  side  of  the  net.  And  perhaps 
that  was  just  as  well,  for  the  picture  was  a  sad  one  and 
would  certainly  have  cast  a  shadow  upon  their  hearts. 
Cecil  was  too  brave  and  resolute  and  self-controlled  to  al- 
low her  love  to  undermine  her  health  ;  nor  did  she  so  brood 
upon  her  inevitable  loss  that  she  ceased  to  enjoy  the  rest 
of  life.  There  was  very  much  still  left  to  her,  and  though 
at  times  everything  seemed  to  her  flavorless  and  insipid, 
yet  the  mood  would  pass  and  she  would  be  able  in- 
tensely to  enjoy  her  home  life.  Still  there  was  no  denying 
that  the  happiness  which  seemed  dawning  for  Roy  and 
Sigrid  was  denied  to  the  other  two  :  they  were  hand- 
icapped in  the  game  of  life  just  as  they  were  at  tennis,  the 
setting  sun  shone  full  in  their  faces  and  made  the  play 
infinitely  more  difficult,  whereas  the  others  playing  in  the 
shady  courts  had  a  considerable  advantage  over  them. 

"Well  !  is  the  set  over?"  asked  Mr.  Boniface  as  the 
two  girls  came  toward  them. 

"Yes,"  cried  Sigrid  merrily.  "And  actually  our  side 
has  won  !  I  am  so  proud  of  having  beaten  Cecil  and 
Frithiof,  for,  as  a  rule,  Frithiof  is  one  of  those  detestable 
people  who  win  everything.  It  was  never  any  fun  play- 
ing with  him  when  we  were  children,  he  was  always  so 
lucky." 

As  she  spoke  Frithiof  had  come  up  the  steps  behind  her. 

"  My  luck  has  turned,  you  see,"  he  said  with  a  smile 
in  which  there  was  a  good  deal  of  sadness.  But  his  tone 
was  playful,  and  indeed  it  seemed  that  he  had  entirely 
got  rid  of  the  bitterness  which  had  once  dominated  every 
look  and  word. 

"Nonsense!"  she  cried,  slipping  her  hand  into  his 
arm.  "  Your  luck  will  return,  it  is  only  that  you  are  not 
quite  strong  again  yet.  Wait  a  day  or  two  and  I  shall 
not  have  a  chance  against  you.  You  need  not  grudge  me 
my  one  little  victory." 

"It  has  not  tired  you  too  much?"  asked  Mrs.  Boni- 
face glancing  up  at  Frithiof.  There  was  a  glow  of  health 
in  his  face  which  she  had  never  before  seen,  and  his  ex- 
pression which  had  once  been  stern  had  grown  much 
more  gentle.  "  But  I  see,"  she  added,  "  that  is  a  foolish 
question,  for  I  don't  think  I  have  ever  seen  you  looking 
better.  It  seems  to  me  this  is  the  sort  of  exercise  you 
need.  We  let  you  stay  much  too  long  over  that  translat- 
ing in  the  old  days," 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN1.  19 1 

"  Yes,"  said  Sigrid  ;  "  I  hardly  know  whether  to  laugh 
or  cry  when  I  think  of  Frithiof,  of  all  people  in  the  world, 
doing  learned  translations  for  such  a  man  as  Herr  Sivert- 
sen.  He  never  could  endure  sedentary  life." 

"  And  yet,"  said  Mr.  Boniface,  pacing  along  the  veranda 
with  her,  "  I  tried  in  vain  to  make  him  take  up  cricket. 
He  declared  that  in  Norway  you  did  not  go  in  for  our 
English  notions  of  exercise  for  the  sake  of  exercise." 

"  Perhaps  not,"  said  Sigrid  ;  "  but  he  was  always  go- 
ing in  for  the  wildest  adventures,  and  never  had  the  least 
taste  for  books.  Poor  Frithiof,  it  only  shows  how  brave 
and  resolute  he  is  ;  he  is  so  set  upon  paying  off  these  debts 
that  he  will  sacrifice  everything  to  that  one  idea,  and  will 
keep  to  work  which  must  be  hateful  to  him." 

"  He  is  a  fine  fellow,"  said  Mrs.  Boniface.  "  I  had 
hardly  realized  what  his  previous  life  must  have  been, 
though  of  course  I  knew  that  the  drudgery  of  shop  life 
was  sorely  against  the  grain." 

*'  Ever  since  he  was  old  enough  to  hold  a  gun  he  used 
to  go  with  my  father  in  August  to  the  mountains  in  Nord- 
fjord,  for  the  reindeer  hunting,"  said  Sigrid.  "  And  every 
Sunday  through  the  winter  he  used  to  go  by  himself  on 
the  wildest  excursions  after  sea-birds.  My  father  said  it 
was  good  training  for  him,  and  as  long  as  he  took  with 
him  old  Nils,  his  skydsmand — I  think  you  call  that  boat- 
man in  English — he  was  never  worried  abouf  him  when 
he  was  away.  But  sometimes  I  was  afraid  for  him,  and 
old  Gro,  our  nurse,  always  declared  he  would  end  by  be- 
ing drowned.  Come  here,  Frithiof,  and  tell  Mr.  Boniface 
about  your  night  on  the  fjord  by  Bukken. " 

His  eyes  lighted  up  at  the  recollection. 

"  Ah,  it  was  such  fun  !  "  he  cried  ;  "  though  we  were 
cheated  out  of  our  sport  aiter  all.  I  had  left  Bergen  on 
the  Saturday,  going  with  old  Nns  to  Bukken,  and  there 
as  usual  we  took  a  boat  to  row  across  to  Gjelleslad  where 
I  generally  slept,  getting  up  at  four  in  the  morning  to  go 
after  the  birds.  Well,  that  night  Nils  and  I  set  out  to 
row  across,  but  had  not  got  far  when  the  most  fearful 
storm  came  down  on  us.  I  never  saw  such  lightning  be- 
fore or  since,  and  the  wind  was  terrific,  we  could  do 
nothing  against  it,  and  indeed  it  was  wonderful  that  we 
did  not  go  to  the  bottom.  By  good  luck  we  were  driven 
back  to  land,  and  managed  to  haul  up  the  boat,  turn  it 
up,  and  shelter  as  best  we  could  under  it,  old  Nils  swear- 


1 92  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

ing  like  a  trooper  and  declaring  that  I  should  be  the  death 
of  him  some  day.  For  four  mortal  hours  we  stayed  there, 
and  the  storm  still  raged.  At  last  by  good  luck  I  hunt- 
ed up  four  men  who  were  willing  to  run  the  risk  of  row- 
ing us  back  to  Bergen.  Then  off  we  set,  Nils  vowing 
that  we  should  be  drowned,  and  so  we  were  very  nearly 
It  was  the  wildest  night  I  ever  knew,  and  the  rowing 
was  fearful  work,  but  at  last  we  got  safely  home.'' 

"And  you  should  have  seen  him,"  cried  Sigrid.  "He 
roused  us  all  up  at  half- past  six  in  the  morning,  and  there 
he  was,  soaked  to  the  skin,  but  looking  so  bright  and 
jolly,  and  making  us  roar  with  laughter  with  his  descrip- 
tion of  it  all.  And  I  really  believe  it  did  him  good;  for 
after  a  few  hours'  sleep  he  came  down  in  the  best  possi- 
ble of  humors.  And  don't  you  remember,  Frithiof,  how 
you  played  it  all  on  your  violin  ? " 

"And  was  only  successful  in  showing  how  well  Nils 
growled,"  said  Frithiof  laughing. 

The  reference  to  the  violin  suggested  the  usual  even- 
ing's music,  and  they  went  into  the  drawing-room,  where 
Sigrid  played  them  some  Norwegian  airs,  Roy  standing 
near  her,  and  watching  her  fair  sweet  face  which  was  still 
glowing  with  the  recollection  of  those  old  days  of  which 
they  had  talked. 

"  Was  it  possible,"  he  thought,  "  that  she  who  was  so 
devoted  t°  her  brother,  that  she  who  loved  the  thought  of 
perilous  adventures,  and  so  ardently  admired  the  bold, 
fearless,  peril-seeking  nature  of  the  old  Vikings,  was  it 
possible  that  she  could  ever  love  such  an  ordinary,  hum- 
drum, commonplace  Londoner  as  himself  ?  "  He  fell  into 
great  despondency,  and  envied  Frithiof  his  Norse  nature, 
his  fine  physique,  his  daring  spirit. 

How  infinitely  harder  life  was  rendered  to  his  friend  by 
that  same  nature,  he  did  not  pause  to  think,  and  sorry  as 
he  was  for  Frithiofs  troubles,  he  scarcely  realized  at  all 
the  force  with  which  they  had  fallen  upon  the  Norweg- 
ian's proud  self-reliant  character. 

Absorbed  in  the  thought  of  his  own  love,  he  had  little 
leisure  for  such  observations.  The  one  all-engrossing 
question  excluded  everything  else.  And  sometimes  with 
hope  he  asked  himself,  "Can  she  love  me  ?"  Sometimes 
in  despair  assured  himself  that  it  was  impossible — 
altogether  impossible, 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  193 


CHAPTER  XX. 

IF  any  one  had  told  Roy  that  his  fate  was  to  be  seriously 
affected  by  Mrs.  James  Homer,  he  would  scarcely  have 
credited  the  idea.  But  the  romances  of  real  life  are  not, 
as  a  rule,  spoiled  by  some  black-hearted  villain,  but  are 
quite  unconsciously  checked  by  uninteresting  matrons,  or 
prosaic  men  of  the  world,  who,  with  entire  innocence, 
frustrate  hopes  and  in  happy  ignorance  go  on  their  way, 
never  realizing  that  they  have  had  anything  to  do  with 
the  actual  lives  of  those  they  meet.  If  the  life  at  Rowan 
Tree  House  had  gone  on  without  interruption,  if  Sigrid 
had  been  unable  to  find  work  and  had  been  at  perfect 
leisure  to  consider  Roy's  wooing,  it  is  quite  probable 
that  in  a  few  weeks  their  friendship  might  have  ended  in 
betrothal.  But  Mrs.  James  Horner  gave  a  children's 
party,  and  this  fact  changed  the  whole  aspect  of  affairs. 

"It  is,  as  you  say,  rather  soon  affer  my  poor  uncle's 
death  for  us  to  give  a  dance,"  said  Mrs.  Horner,  as  she 
sat  in  the  drawing-room  of  Rowan  Tree  House  discussing 
the  various  arrangements.  "But  you  see  it  is  dear 
Mamie's  birthday,  and  I  do  not  like  to  disappoint  her ; 
and  Madame  Lechertier  has  taken  the  idea  up  so  warmly, 
and  has  promised  to  come  as  a  spectator.  It  was  at  her 
suggestion  that  we  made  it  a  fancy-dress  affair." 

"  Who  is  Madame  Lechertier?  "  asked  Sigrid,  who  list- 
ened with  all  the  interest  of  a  foreigner  to  these  details. 

"She  is  a  very  celebrated  dancing-mistress,"  explained 
Cecil.  "I  should  like  you  to  see  her,  for  she  is  quite  a 
character. " 

"Miss  Falck  will,  I  hope,  come  to  our  little  entertain- 
ment," said  Mrs.  Horner,  graciously.  For,  although  she 
detested  Frithiof,  she  had  been,  against  her  will, 
charmed  by  Sigrid.  "It  is,  you  know,  quite  a  small 
affair — about  fifty  children,  and  only  from  seven  to  ten. 
I  would  not,  for  the  world,  shock  the  congregation,  Love- 
day,  so  I  mean  to  make  it  all  as  simple  as  possible.  I  do 
not  know  that  I  shall  even  have  ices." 

"My  dear,  I  do  not  think  ices  would  shock  them,"  said 
Mrs.  Boniface,  "though  I  should  think,  perhaps,  they 
might  not  be  wholesome  for  little  children  who  have  got 
heated  with  dancing. " 


194 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 


"Oh,  I  don't  really  think  they'll  be  shocked  at  all,"  said 
Mrs.  Horner,  smiling.  "James  could  do  almost  any- 
thing before  they'd  be  shocked.  You  see,  he's  such  a 
benefactor  to  the  chapel,  and  is  so  entirely  the  leading 
spirit — why,  where  would  they  be  without  him  ?  " 

Mrs.  Boniface  murmured  some  kindly  reply.  It  was 
quite  true,  as  she  knew  very  well.  James  Horner  was  so 
entirely  the  rich  and  generous  head  of  the  congregation 
that  everything  had  to  give  way  to  him,  and  the  minister 
was  not  a  little  hampered  in  consequence.  It,  was,  per- 
haps, the  perception  of  this  which  made  Mr.  Boniface,  an 
equally  rich  and  generous  man,  play  a  much  more  quiet 
part.  He  worked  quite  as  hard  to  further  the  good  of  the 
congregation,  but  his  work  was  much  less  apparent,  nor 
did  he  ever  show  the  least  symptom  of  that  love  of  power 
which  was  the  bane  of  James  Homer's  existence. 

Whether  Mr.  Boniface  entirely  approved  of  this  chil- 
dren's fancy-dress  dance,  Sigrid  could  not  feel  sure.  She 
fancied  that  in  spite  of  all  his  kindly,  tolerant  spirit,  he 
had  an  innate  love  of  the  older  forms  of  Puritanism,  and 
that  his  quiet,  home-keeping  nature  could  not  understand 
at  all  the  enjoyment  of  dancing  or  of  character-dresses. 
Except  with  regard  to  music,  the  artistic  side  of  his  nature 
was  not  highly  developed,  and,  while  his  descent  from 
Puritan  forefathers  had  given  him  an  immense  advantage 
in  many  ways,  and  had  undoubtedly  helped  to  make  him 
the  conscientious,  liberty-loving,  God-fearing  man  he  was, 
yet  it  had  also  given  him  the  Puritan  tendency  to  look 
with  distrust  on  many  innocent  enjoyments.  He  was 
always  fearful  of  what  these  various  forms  of  amusement 
might  lead  to.  But  he  forgot  to  think  of  what  dullness 
and  dearth  of  amusement  might  lead  to,  and  had  not  fully 
appreciated  the  lesson  which  Englishmen  must  surely 
have  been  intended  to  learn  from  the  violent  reaction  of 
the  restoration  after  the  restrictions  of  the  Common  wealth. 

But  no  matters  of  opinion  ever  made  even  a  momen- 
tary discomfort  in  that  happy  household.  Uniformity 
there  was  not,  for  they  thought  very  differently,  and  each 
held  fast  to  his  own  view  ;  but  there  was  something  much 
higher  than  uniformity,  there  was  unity,  which  is  the  out- 
come of  love.  Little  differences  of  practice  came  from 
time  to  time  ;  they  went  their  various  ways  to  church  and 
chapel  on  Sunday,  and  Roy  and  Cecil  would  go  to  henr 
Donati  at  the  opera-house,  while  the  father  and  mother 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 


'95 


Would  have  to  wait  till  there  was  a  chance  of  hearing  the 
celebrated  baritone  at  St.  James'  Hall ;  but  in  the  great 
aims  of  life  they  were  absolutely  united,  and  worked  and 
lived  in  perfect  harmony.  At  length  the  great  day  came, 
and  Mr.  Boniface  and  Roy,  on  their  return  from  town, 
were  greeted  by  a  bewitching  little  figure  on  the  stairs, 
with  curly  hair  combed  out  to  its  full  length,  and  a  dainty 
suit  of  crimson  velvet  trimmed  with  gold  lace. 

"  Why,  who  are  you  ? "  said  Mr.  Boniface,  entering 
almost  unconsciously  into  the  fun  of  the  masquerade. 

"I'm  Cinderella's  prince,"  shouted  Lance,  gleefully,  and 
in  the  highest  spirits  the  little  fellow  danced  in  to  show 
Frithiof  his  get-up,  capering  all  over  the  room  in  that 
rapturous  enjoyment  of  childhood,  the  sight  of  which  is 
one  of  the  purest  pleasures  of  all  true  men  and  women. 
Frithiof,  who  had  been  tired  and  depressed  all  day,  bright- 
ened up  at  once  when  Lance,  who  was  very  fond  of  him, 
came  to  sit  on  his  knee  in  that  ecstasy  of  happy  impa- 
tience which  one  only  sees  in  children. 

"  What  is  the  time  now  ?  "  he  asked  every  two  minutes. 
"Do  you  think  it  will  soon  be  time  to  go?  Don't  you 
almost  think  you  hear  the  carriage  coming  ? " 

"  As  for  me,"  said  Sigrid,  "I  feel  like  Cinderella  before 
the  fairy  godmother  came.  You  are  sure  Mrs.  Horner 
will  not  mind  this  ordinary  black  gown  ? " 

"Oh,  dear,  no,"  said  Cecil.  "You  see,  she  herself  is  in 
mourning  ;  and  besides  you  look  charming,  Sigrid." 

The  compliment  was  quite  truthful,  for  Sigrid,  in  her 
quiet  black  dress,  which  suited  her  slim  figure  to  perfec- 
tion, the  simple  folds  of  white  net  about  her  neck,  and  the 
delicate  blush  roses  and  maiden-hair  which  Roy  had  gath- 
ered for  her,  certainly  looked  the  most  charming  little 
woman  imaginable. 

"I  wish  you  could  come  too,"  said  Cecil,  glancing  at 
Frithiof,  while  she  swathed  the  little  prince  in  a  thick 
plaid.  "It  will  be  very  pretty  to  see  all  the  children  in 
costume." 

"Yes,"  he  replied  ;  "but  my  head  would  never  stand 
the  noise  and  the  heat.  I  am  better  here." 

"We  shall  take  great  care  of  him,"  said  Mrs.  Boniface  ; 
"  and  you  must  tell  us  all  about  it  afterward.  Don't  keep 
Lance  up  late  if  he  seems  to  get  tired,  dearie.  Good-bye, 
and  mind  you  enjoy  yourself." 

"There  goes  a  happy  quartette,"  said  Mr.  Boniface,  as 


196  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

he  closed  the  door  behind  them.  "  But  here,  to  my  way 
of  thinking,  is  a  more  enviable  trio.  Did  you  ever  see 
this  book,  Frithiof  ? " 

Since  his  illness  they  had  fallen  into  the  habit  of  calling 
him  by  his  Christian  name,  for  he  had  become  almost  like 
one  of  the  family.  Even  in  his  worst  days  they  had  all 
been  fond  of  him,  and  now  in  these  days  of  his  convales- 
cence, when  physical  suffering  had  brought  out  the  gen- 
tler side  of  his  nature,  and  his  strength  of  character  was 
shown  in  rather  silent  patience  than  in  dogged  and  des- 
perate energy,  as  of  old,  he  had  won  all  hearts.  The 
proud,  willful  isolation  which  had  made  his  fellow-work- 
ers detest  him  had  been  broken  down  at  length,  and  grati- 
tude for  all  the  kindness  he  had  received  at  Rowan  Tree 
House  had  so  changed  him  that  it  seemed  unlikely  that 
he  would  ever  sink  again  into  such  an  extremity  of  hard 
bitterness.  His  laughter  over  the  book  which  Mr.  Boni- 
face had  brought  him  seemed  to  his  host  and  hostess  a 
promising  sign,  and  over  "Three  in  Norway"  these  three 
in  England  passed  the  pleasant  evening  which  Mr.  Boni- 
face had  predicted. 

Meanwhile  Sigrid  was  thoroughly  enjoying  herself. 
True,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Horner  were  vulgar,  and  now  and 
then  said  things  which  jarred  on  her,  but  with  all  their 
failings  they  had  a  considerable  share  of  genuine  kindli- 
ness, and  the  very  best  side  of  them  showed  that  night, 
as  they  tried  to  make  all  their  guests  happy.  A  children's 
party  generally  does  call  out  whatever  good  there  is  in 
people ;  unkind  gossip  is  seldom  heard  at  such  a  time, 
and  people  are  never  bored,  for  they  are  infected  by  the 
genuine  enjoyment  of  the  little  ones,  the  dancers  who  do 
not,  as  in  later  life,  wear  masks,  whose  smiles  are  the 
smiles  of  real  and  intense  happiness,  whose  laughter  is  so 
inspiriting.  It  was,  moreover,  the  first  really  gay  scene 
which  had  met  Sigrid's  eyes  for  nearly  a  year,  and  she  en- 
joyed to  the  full  the  quaint  little  cavaliers,  the  tiny  court 
ladies,  with  their  powdered  hair  and  their  patches  ;  the  Red 
Riding  Hoods  and  Bo-peeps  ;  the  fairies  and  the  peasants  ; 
the  Robin  Hoods  and  Maid  Marians.  The  dancing  was 
going  on  merrily  when  Madame  Lechertier  was  an- 
nounced, and  Sigrid  looked  up  with  interest  to  see  what 
the  lady  who  was  pronounced  to  be  "quite  a  character" 
was  like.  She  saw  a  tall  and  wonderfully  graceful  woman, 
With  an  exprtggive  but  plain  face.  In  repose  her  express 


A  HARDY  HORSEMAN.  197 

sion  was  decidedly  autocratic,  but  she  had  a  most  charm- 
ing smile,  and  a  perfect  manner.  The  Norwegian  girl 
took  a  great  fancy  to  her,  and  the  feeling  was  mutual,  for 
the  great  Madame  Lechertier,  who,  it  was  rumored,  was 
of  a  keenly  critical  disposition,  instantly  noticed  her,  and 
turned  to  the  hostess  with  an  eager  question. 

' '  What  a  charming  face  that  golden-haired  girl  has  !  " 
she  said,  in  her  outspoken  and  yet  courteous  way. 
"  With  all  her  simplicity  there  is  such  a  pretty  little  touch 
of  dignity.  See  how  perfect  her  bow  is  !  What  is  her 
name?  And  may  I  not  be  introduced  to  her?" 

"  She  is  a  friend  of  my  cousin's, "  explained  Mrs.  Homer, 
glad  to  claim  this  sort  of  proprietorship  in  any  one  who 
had  called  forth  compliments  from  the  lips  of  so  critical  a 
judge.  "  She  is  Norwegian,  and  her  name  is  Falck." 

Sigrid  liked  the  bright,  clever,  majestic-looking  French- 
woman better  than  ever  after  she  had  talked  with  her. 
There  was,  indeed,  in  Madame  Lechertier  something 
very  refreshing.  Her  chief  charm  was  that  she  was  so 
utterly  unlike  any  one  else.  There  was  about  her  an 
individuality  that  was  really  astonishing,  and  when  you 
heard  her  talk  you  felt  the  same  keen  sense  of  novelty  and 
interest  that  is  awakened  by  the  first  sight  of  a  foreign 
country.  She,  in  her  turn,  was  enchanted  by  Sigrid's 
perfect  naturalness  and  vivacity,  and  they  had  become 
fast  friends  when  presently  a  pause  in  the  music  made 
them  both  look  up. 

The  pianist,  a  pale,  worn-looking  lady,  whose  black 
silk  dres's  had  an  ominously  shiny  back,  which  told  its 
tale  of  poverty,  all  at  once  broke  down,  and  her  white 
face  touched  Sigrid's  heart. 

"  I  think  she  is  faint,"  she  exclaimed.  "  Do  you  think 
I  might  offer  to  play  for  her  ? " 

"It  is  a  kind  thought,"  said  Madame  Lechertier,  and 
she  watched  with  interest  while  the  pretty  Norwegian 
girl  hastened  to  the  piano,  and,  with  a  few  hurried  words, 
relieved  the  pianist,  who  beat  a  hasty  retreat  into  the 
cooler  air  of  the  hall. 

She  played  extremely  well,  and,  being  herself  a  born 
dancer,  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the  waltz  in  a  way  which 
her  predecessor  had  wholly  failed  to  do.  Madame 
Lechertier  was  delighted,  and  when  by-and-by  Sigrid  was 
released  she  rejoined  her,  and  refused  to  be  borne  off  to 
the  supper-room  by  Mr.  Horner. 


I9S  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

"No,  no,"  she  said  ;  "let  the  little  people  be  attended 
to  first.  Miss  Falck  and  I  mean  to  have  a  quiet  talk 
here. " 

So  Sigrid  told  her  something  of  her  life  at  Bergen,  and 
of  the  national  love  of  music  and  dancing,  and  thoroughly 
interested  her. 

"And  when  do  you  return  ?  "  asked  Madame  Lechertier. 

"That  depends  on  whether  I  can  find  work  in  Eng- 
land," replied  Sigrid.  "What  I  wish  is  to  stay  in  London 
with  my  brother.  He  has  been  very  ill,  and  I  do  not 
think  he  ought  to  live  alone." 

"What  sort  of  work  do  you  wish  for?  "  asked  Madame 
Lechertier. 

"I  would  do  anything, "  said  Sigrid.  "But  the  worst 
of  it  is  everything  is  so  crowded  already,  and  I  have  no 
very  special  talent." 

"  My  dear,"  said  Madame  Lechertier,  "it  seems  to  me 
you  have  a  very  decided  talent.  You  play  dance-music 
better  than  any  one  I  ever  heard,  and  that  is  saying  a 
good  deal.  Why  do  you  not  turn  this  to  account?  " 

"Do  you  think  I  could?"  asked  Sigrid,  her  eyes  light- 
ing up  eagerly.  "Do  you  really  think  I  could  earn  my 
living  by  it  ?  " 

"I  feel  sure  of  it,"said  Madame  Lechertier.  "And,  if 
you  seriously  think  the  idea  is  good,  I  will  come  and  dis- 
cuss the  matter  with  you.  I  hear  you  are  a  friend  of  my 
old  pupil,  Miss  Boniface  ?  " 

"Yes;  we  are  staying  now  at  Rowan  Tree  House; 
they  have  been  so  good  to  us." 

"They  are  delightful  people — the  father  is  one  of  nat- 
ure's true  gentlemen.  I  shall  come  and  see  you,  then, 
and  talk  this  over.  To-morrow  morning,  if  that  will  suit 
you." 

Sigrid  went  home  in  high  spirits,  and  the  next  day, 
when,  as  usual,  she  and  Frithiof  were  alone  in  the  morn- 
ing-room after  breakfast,  she  told  him  of  Madame  Le- 
chertier's  proposal,  and,  while  they  were  still  discussing 
the  matter,  the  good  lady  was  announced. 

Now,  like  many  people,  Madame  Lechertier  was  be- 
nevolent by  impulse.  Had  Sigrid  been  less  attrac- 
tive, she  would  not  have  gone  out  of  her  way  to  help 
her  ;  but  the  Norwegian  girl  had  somehow  touched  her 
heart. 

"It  will  be  a  case  of  'Colors  seen  by  candlelight  will 


A  If  A  RD  Y  NORSEMAN.  1 99 

not  look  the  same  by  day.'"  she  had  reflected,  as  she 
walked  to  Rowan  Tree  House.  "I  shall  find  my  pretty 
Norse  girl  quite  commonplace  and  uninteresting,  and  my 
castle  in  the  air  will  fall  in  ruins." 

But  when  she  was  shown  into  the  room  where  Sigrid 
sat  at  work,  all  her  fears  vanished.  "The  girl  has  be- 
witched me  !  "  she  thought,  to  herself.  "And  the  brother 
— what  a  fine-looking  fellow  !  There  is  a  history  behind 
that  face,  if  I'm  not  mistaken." 

"We  have  just  been  talking  over  what  you  said  to  me 
last  night,  madame,"  said  Sigrid  brightly. 

"The  question  is/'  said  Madame  Lechertier,  "whether 
you  are  really  in  earnest  in  seeking  work,  and  whether 
you  will  not  object  to  my  proposal.  The  fact  is,  that  the 
girl  who  for  some  time  has  played  for  me  at  my  principal 
classes  is  going  to  be  married.  I  have,  of  course,  an- 
other assistant  upon  whom  I  can,  if  need  be,  fall  back  ; 
but  she  does  not  satisfy  me,  we  do  not  work  well  together, 
and  her  playing  is  not  to  be  compared  to  yours.  I  should 
only  need  you  in  the  afternoon,  and  during  the  three  terms 
of  the  year.  Each  term  is  of  twelve  weeks,  and  the  sal- 
ary I  should  offer  you  would  be  £24  a  term — £2  a  week, 
you  see." 

"Oh,  Frithiof !  "  cried  Sigrid,  in  great  excitement,  "we 
should  be  able  to  keep  Swanhild.  We  could  have  her 
over  from  Norway.  Surely  your  salary  and  mine  together 
would  keep  us  all?" 

"Who  is  Swanhild?"  asked  Madame  Lechertier. 

"She  is  our  little  sister,  madame.  She  is  much  younger 
— only  eleven  years  old,  and  as  we  are  orphans,  Frithiof 
and  I  are  her  guardians." 

Madame  Lechertier  looked  at  the  two  young  faces, 
smiling  to  think  that  they  should  be  already  burdened 
with  the  cares  of  guardianship.  It  touched  her,  and  yet 
at  the  same  time  it  was  almost  comical  to  hear  these  two 
young  things  gravely  talking  about  their  ward. 

"You  see,"  said  Frithiof,  "there  would  be  her  educa- 
tion, one  must  not  forget  that. " 

"But  at  the  high  schools  it  is  very  cheap,  is  it  not 
madame  ?  "  said  Sigrid. 

"About  ten  pounds  a  year,"  said  Madame  Lechertier. 
"What  is  your  little  sister  like,  because  if  she  is  at  all  like 
you " 

"  Here  is  her  photograph,"  said  Sigrid,  unfastening  her 


2  00  A  HARD  Y  NO  RS EM  AN1. 

writing  case  and  taking  out  Swanhild's  picture.  "  This  is 
taken  in  her  peasant  costume  which  she  used  to  wear 
sometimes  for  fun  when  we  were  in  the  country.  It  suits 
her  very  well,  I  think. " 

"But  she  is  charming,"  cried  Madame  Lechertier. 
"Such  a  dainty  little  figure — such  well-shaped  legs  !  My 
dear,  I  have  a  bright  thought — an  inspiration.  Send  for 
your  little  Swanhild,  and  when  you  come  to  me  each 
afternoon  bring  her  also  in  this  fascinating  costume.  She 
shall  be  my  little  pupil-teacher,  and  though,  of  course,  her 
earnings  would  be  but  small,  yet  they  would  more  than 
cover  her  education  at  a  high  school,  and  she  would  be 
learning  a  useful  profession  into  the  bargain." 

She  glanced  ?t  Frithiof  and  saw  quite  plainly  that  he 
shrank  from  the  idea,  and  that  it  would  go  hard  with  his 
proud«  nature  to  accept  such  an  offer.  She  glanced  at 
Sigrid,  and  saw  that  the  sister  was  ready  to  sacrifice  any- 
thing for  the  sake  of  getting  the  little  girl  to  England. 
Then,  having  as  much  tact  as  kindness,  she  rose  to  go. 

"You  will  talk  it  over  between  you  and  let  me  know 
your  decision,"  she  said  pleasantly.  "Consult  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Boniface,  £nd  let  me  know  in  a  day  or  two.  Why 
should  you  not  come  in  to  afternoon  tea  with  me  to- 
morrow, for  I  shall  be  at  home  for  once,  and  can  show 
you  my  canaries  ?  Cecil  will  bring  you.  She  and  I  are 
old  friends." 

When  she  was  gone  Sigrid  returned  to  the  room  with 
dancing  eyes. 

"Is  she  not  delightful,"  she  cried.  "For  myself, 
Frithiof,  I  can't  hesitate  for  a  moment.  The  work  will  be 
easy,  and  she  will  be  thoroughly  kind." 

"  She  has  a  bad  temper,"  said  Frithiof. 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  Because  no  sweet-tempered  woman  ever  had  such  a 
straight,  thin-lipped  mouth." 

"  I  think  you  are  very  horrid  to  pick  holes  in  her  when 
she  has  been  so  kind  to  us.  For  myself  I  must  accept. 
But  how  about  Swanhild  ?  " 

"I  hate  the  thought  for  eihter  of  you,"  said  Frithiof 
moodily. 

Somehow,  though  his  own  descent  in  the  social  scale 
had  been  disagreeable  enough,  yet  it  had  not  been  so 
intolerable  to  him  as  this  thought  of  work  for  his  sisters. 

"  Now,  Frithiof,  don't  go  and  be  a  goose  about  it,"  said 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN:  201 

Sigrid  caressingly.  "  If  we  are  ever  to  have  a  nice  cozy 
little  home  together  we  must  certainly  work  at  some- 
thing, and  we  are  not  likely  to  get  lighter,  or  more  con- 
genial, or  better  paid  work  than  this.  Come,  dear,  you 
have  got,  as  Lance  would  say,  to  'grin  and  bear  it.' " 

He  sighed. 

"In  any  case,  we  must  give  Swanhild  herself  a  voice 
in  the  matter,"  he  said  at  length.  "Accept  the  offer  if 
you  like,  provisionally,  and  let  us  write  to  her  and  tell 
her  about  it." 

"Very  well,  we  will  write  a  joint  letter  and  give  her 
all  sorts  of  guardianly  advice.  But,  all  the  same,  you 
know  as  well  as  I  do  that  Swanhild  will  not  hesitate  for  a 
moment.  She  is  dying  to  come  to  England,  and  she  is 
never  so  happy  as  when  she  is  dancing." 

Frithiof  thought  of  that  day  long  ago,  when  he  had 
come  home  aftur  meeting  the  Morgans  at  the  Bergen 
landing  quay,  and  had  heard  Sigrid  playing  as  he  walked 
up  the  garden  path,  and  had  found  Swanhild  dancing  so 
merrily  with  Lillo,  and  the  old  refrain  that  had  haunted 
him  then  returned  to  him  now  in  bitter  mockery, 

"To-day  is  just  a  day  to  my  mind; 
All  sunny  before  and  sunny  behind, 
Over  the  heather." 

When  Roy  came  home  that  evening  the  matter  was 
practically  decided.  Frithiof  and  Sigrid  had  had  a  long 
talk  in  the  library  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Boniface,  and  by- 
and-by  in  the  garden,  Sigrid  told  him  gleefufly  what  she 
called  the  "good  news." 

"I  can  afford  to  laugh  now  at  my  aluminium  pencils 
and  the  embroidery  patterns,  and  the  poodle  shaving," 
she  said  gayly.  "Was  it  not  lucky  that  we  happened  to 
go  to  Mrs.  Homer's  party,  and  that  everything  happened 
just  as  it  did  ?  " 

"  Do  you  really  like  the  prospect  ?  "  asked  Roy. 

"Indeed  I  do.  I  haven't  felt  so  happy  for  months. 
For  now  we  need  never  again  be  parted  from  Frithiof. 
It  will  be  the  best  thing  in  the  world  for  him  to  have  a 
comfortable  little  home  ;  and  I  shall  take  good  care  that  he 
doesn't  work  too  hard.  Mr.  Boniface  has  been  so  good. 
He  says  that  Frithiof  can  have  some  extra  work  to  do  if 
he  likes ;  he  can  attend  some  of  your  concerts,  and  ar- 
range the  platform  between  the  pieces  ;  and  this  will  add 
nicely  to  his  salary.  And  then,  too,  when  he  heard  that 


202  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

I  had  quite  decided  on  accepting  Mme.  Lechertier's  offer, 
he  proposed  something  else  for  us  too." 

' '  What  was  that  ? "  said  poor  Roy,  his  heart  sinking 
down  like  lead. 

"  Why,  he  thinks  that  he  might  get  us  engagements 
to  play  at  children's  parties  or  small  dances.  Frithiof  s 
violin-playing  is  quite  good  enough,  he  says.  And  don't 
you  think  it  would  be  much  better  for  him  than  poring  so 
long  over  that  hateful  work  of  Herr  Sivertsen's?  " 

Roy  was  obliged  to  assent.  He  saw  only  too  clearly 
that  to  speak  to  her  now  of  his  love  would  be  utterly  use- 
less— indeed,  worse  than  useless.  She  would  certainly 
refuse  him,  and  there  would  be  an  end  of  the  pleasant  in- 
tercourse. Moreover,  it  would  be  far  more  difficult  to 
help  them,  as  they  were  now  able  to  do  in  various  small 
ways. 

"  Frithiof  is  rather  down  in  the  depths  about  it, "  said 
Sigrid.  "And  I  do  hope  you  will  cheer  him  up.  After 
all,  it  is  very  silly  to  think  that  there  is  degradation  in 
any  Lind  of  honest  work.  If  you  had  known  what  it 
was  to  live  in  dependence  on  relations  for  so  long  you 
would  understand  how  happy  I  am  to-night.  I,  too, 
shall  be  able  to  help  in  paying  off  the  debts  !  " 

"Is  her  life  also  to  be  given  up  to  that  desperate  at- 
tempt? "  thought  Roy  despondently. 

And  if  Sigrid  had  not  been  absorbed  in  her  own  happy 
thoughts,  his  depression,  and  perhaps  the  cause  of  it, 
would  have  been  apparent  to  her.  But  she  strolled  along 
the  garden  path  beside  him,  in  blissful  ignorance,  think- 
ing of  a  busy,  successful  future,  in  which  Roy  Boniface 
played  no  part  at  all. 

She  was  his  friend,  she  liked  him  heartily.  But  that 
was  all.  Whether  their  friendship  could  ever  now  deepen 
into  love  seemed  doubtful. 


CHAPTER  XXL 

DURING  the  next  few  days  Sigrid  was  absorbed  in  deep 
calculations.  She  found  that,  exclusive  of  Swanhild's 
small  earnings,  which  would  be  absorbed  by  her  educa- 
tion and  the  few  extras  that  might  be  needed,  their  actual 
yearly  income  would  be  about  ^150.  Frithiot's  work  for 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  $6$ 

Herr  Sivertsen,  and  whatever  they  might  earn  by  evening 
engagements  could  be  laid  aside  toward  the  fund  for  pay- 
ing off  the  debts,  and  she  thought  that  they  might  per- 
haps manage  to  live  on  the  rest.  Mrs.  Boniface  seemed 
rather  aghast  at  the  notion,  and  said  she  thought  it  im- 
possible. 

"I  don't  suppose  that  we  shall  spend  as  little  on  food 
as  Frithiof  did  when  he  was  alone,"  said  Sigrid,  "for  he 
nearly  starved  himself ;  and  I  don't  mean  to  allow  him 
to  try  that  again.  I  see  that  the  great  difficulty  will  be 
rent,  for  that  seems  so  high  in  London.  We  were  talking 
about  it  this  morning,  and  Frithiof  had  a  bright  idea. 
He  says  there  are  some  very  cheap  flats — workmen's 
model  lodgings — that  might  perhaps  do  for  us  ;  only  of 
course  we  must  make  sure  that  they  are  quite  healthy 
before  we  take  Swanhild  there." 

"Clean  and  healthy  they  are  pretty  sure  to  be,"  said 
Mrs.  Boniface,  "but  I  fancy  they  have  strict  rules  which 
might  be  rather  irksome  to  you.  Still,  we  can  go  and 
make  inquiries.  After  all,  you  would  in  some  ways  be 
better  off  than  in  ordinary  lodgings,  where  you  are  at  the 
mercy  of  the  landlady." 

So  that  afternoon  they  went  to  an  office  where  they 
could  get  information  as  to  model  dwellings,  and  found 
that  four  rooms  could  be  obtained  in  some  of  them  at  the 
rate  of  seven  and  sixpence  a  week.  At  this  their  spirits 
rose  not  a  little,  and  they  drove  at  once  to  a  block  which 
was  within  fairly  easy  distance  both  of  the  shop  and  of 
the  rooms  in  which  Madame  Lechertier  gave  her  afternoon 
dan  cing-classes. 

To  outward  view  the  model  dwellings  were  certainly 
not  attractive.  The  great  high  houses  with  their  uniform 
ugly  color,  the  endless  rows  of  windows,  all  precisely 
alike,  the  asphalt  court-yard  in  the  centre,  though  tidy 
and  clean,  had  a  desolate  look.  Still,  when  you  realized 
that  one  might  live  in  such  a  place  for  so  small  a  sum, 
and  thought  of  many  squalid  streets  where  the  rental 
would  be  twice  as  high,  it  was  more  easy  to  appreciate 
these  eminently  respectable  lodgings. 

"At  present  we  have  no  rooms  to  let,  sir,"  was  the 
answer  of  the  superintendent  to  Frithiof  s  inquiry. 

Their  spirits  sank,  but  rose  again  when  he  added,  "  I 
think,  though,  we  are  almost  certain  to  have  a  set  vacant 
before  long." 


204  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN; 

"Could  we  see  over  them ?  "  they  asked. 

"Well,  the  set  that  will  most  likely  be  vacant  belongs 
to  a  north-country  family,  and  I  dare  say  they  would  let 
you  look  in.  There  is  one  of  the  children.  Here,  Jessie, 
ask  your  mother  if  she  would  mind  just  showing  her 
rooms,  will  you  ? " 

The  child,  glancing  curiously  at  the  visitors,  led  the . 
way  up  flight  after  flight  of  clean  stone  stairs,  past  wide- 
open  windows,  through  which  the  September  wind  blew 
freshly,  then  down  a  long  passage  until  at  length  she 
reached  a  door,  which  she  threw  open  to  announce  their 
advent.  A  pleasant  looking  woman  came  forward  and 
asked  them  to  step  in. 

"  You'll  excuse  the  place  being  a  bit  untidy,"  she  said. 
"  My  man  has  just  got  fresh  work,  and  he  has  but  now 
told  me  we  shall  have  to  be  flitting  in  a  week's  time. 
We  are  going  to  Compton  Buildings  in  the  Goswell 
Road." 

After  Rowan  Tree  House,  the  rooms,  of  course,  felt 
tiny,  and  they  were  a  good  deal  blocked  up  with  furniture, 
to  say  nothing  of  five  small  children  who  played  about 
in  the  kitchen.  But  the  place  was  capitally  planned, 
every  inch  was  turned  to  account,  and  Sigrid  thought 
they  might  live  there  very  comfortably.  She  talked  over 
sundry  details  with  the  present  owner. 

"  There's  but  one  thing,  miss,  I  complain  of,  and  that 
is  that  they  don't  put  in  another  cupboard  or  two,"  said 
the  good  woman.  "Give  me  another  cupboard  and  I 
should  be  quite  content.  But  you  see,  miss,  there's  always 
a  something  that  you'd  like  to  alter,  go  where  you  will." 

"  I  wonder,"  said  Sigrid,  "if  we  took  them,  whether  I 
could  pay  one  of  the  neighbors  to  do  my  share  of  sweep- 
ing and  scrubbing  the  stairs,  and  whether  I  could  get 
them  to  scrub  out  these  rooms  once  a  week.  You  see,  I 
don't  think  I  could  manage  the  scrubbing  very  well." 

"Oh,  miss,  there  would  be  no  difficulty  in  that,"  said 
the  woman.  "There's  many  that  would  be  thankful  to 
earn  a  little  that  way,  and  the  same  with  laundry  work. 
You  won't  find  no  difficulty  in  getting  that  done.  There's 
Mrs.  Hallifield  in  the  next  set ;  she  would  be  glad  enough 
to  do  it,  I  know,  and  you  couldn't  have  a  pleasanter 
neighbor ;  she's  a  bit  lonesome,  poor  thing,  with  her  hus- 
band being  so  much  away.  He's  a  tram-car  man,  he  is, 
and  gets  terrible  long  hours  weekday  and  Sunday  alike." 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  205 

Owing  to  the  good  woman's  north-country  accent  Sigrid 
had  not  been  able  quite  to  follow  this  last  speech,  but  she 
understood  enough  to  awaken  in  her  a  keen  curiosity, 
and  to  show  her  that  their  new  life  might  have  plenty  of 
human  interest  in  it.  She  looked  out  of  one  of  the  win- 
dows at  the  big  square  of  houses  and  tried  to  picture  the 
hundreds  of  lives  which  were  being  lived  in  them. 

"  Do  you  know,  I  begin  to  like  this  great  court-yard," 
she  said  to  Cecil.  "At  first  it  looked  to  me  dreary,  but 
now  it  looks  to  me  like  a  great  orderly,  human  hive  ; 
there  is  something  about  it  that  makes  one  feel  indus- 
trious." 

"We  will  settle  down  here  then,"  said  Frithiof,  smil- 
ing ;  "  and  you  shall  be  queen  bee." 

"You  think  it  would  not  hurt  Swanhild  !  "  asked  Sigrid, 
turning  to  Mrs.  Boniface.  "The  place  seems  to  me  beauti- 
fully airy." 

"Indeed,"  said  Mrs.  Boniface,  "I  think  in  many  ways 
the  place  is  most  comfortable,  and  certainly  you  could 
not  do  better,  unless  you  gave  a  very  much  higher  rent." 

But  nevertheless  she  sighed  a  little,  for  though  she  ad- 
mired the  resolute  way  in  which  these  two  young  things 
set  to  work  to  make  the  best  of  their  altered  life,  yet  she 
could  not  help  feeling  that  they  scarcely  realized  how 
long  and  tedious  must  be  the  process  of  slowly  economiz- 
ing on  a  narrow  income  until  the  burden  which  they  had 
taken  on  their  shoulders  could  at  length  be  removed. 
Even  to  try  to  pay  off  debts  which  must  be  reckoned  by 
thousands  out  of  precarious  earnings  which  would  be 
counted  by  slow  and  toilsome  units,  seemed  to  her  hope- 
less. Her  kind,  gentle  nature  was  without  that  fiber  of 
dauntless  resolution  which  strengthened  the  characters  of 
the  two  Norwegians.  She  did  not  understand  that  the 
very  difficulty  of  the  task  incited  them  to  make  the  attempt, 
nerved  them  for  the  struggle,  and  stimulated  them  to 
that  wonderful  energy  of  patience  which  overcomes  every- 
thing. 

As  for  Sigrid,  she  was  now  in  her  element.  A  true 
woman,  she  delighted  in  the  thought  of  having  rooms  of 
her  own  to  furnish  and  arrange.  She  thought  of  them  by 
day,  she  dreamed  of  them  by  night ;  she  pored  over  store 
lists  and  furniture  catalogues,  and  amused  them  all  by 
her  comments. 

"Beds   are   ruinously   dear/'   she  said,    after  making 


206  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

elaborate  calculations.  "We  must  have  three  really 
comfortable  ones  since  we  mean  to  work  hard  all  day, 
and  they  must  certainly  be  new ;  the  three  of  them  with 
all  their  belongings  will  not  leave  very  much  out  of  twelve 
pounds  I  fear.  But  then  as  to  chairs  and  tables  they 
might  well  be  second-hand,  and  we  won't  go  in  for  a 
single  luxury  ;  it  will  look  rather  bare,  but  then  there  will 
be  less  trouble  about  cleaning  and  dusting." 

"You  will  become  such  a  domestic  character  that  we 
sha'n't  know  you,"  said  Frithiof,  laughing.  "What  do 
you  think  we  can  possibly  furnish  the  rooms  on?" 

"Wait  a  moment  and  I'll  add  up  my  list,"  she  said 
cheerfully.  "  I  never  knew  before  how  many  things  there 
were  in  a  house  that  one  can't  do  well  without.  Now 
that  must  surely  be  all.  No,  I  have  forgotten  brushes  and 
brooms  and  such  things.  Now  then  for  the  adding  up. 
You  check  me,  Cecil,  for  fear  I  make  it  too  little — this  is 
a  terrible  moment." 

"Twenty-eight  pounds!"  exclaimed  both  girls  in  a 
breath. 

"You  can  surely  never  do  it  on  that  ?  "  said  Cecil. 

"It  seems  a  great  deal  to  me,"  said  Sigrid  ;  "still,  I 
have  more  than  that  over  from  uncle's  fifty-pound  cheque, 
even  after  Dr.  Morris  is  paid.  No,  on  the  whole,  I  think 
we  need  not  worry,  but  may  spend  as  much  as  that  with 
a  clear  conscience.  The  thing  I  am  anxious  about  is  my 
weekly  bill.  Look  here,  we  must  somehow  manage  to 
live  on  ^"145  a  year,  that  will  leave  five  pounds  in  case  of 
illness  or  any  great  need.  For  charity  it  leaves  nothing, 
but  we  can't  give  while  we  are  in  debt.  £2  155.  a  week 
for  three  of  us  !  Why,  poor  people  live  on  far  less." 

"  But  then  you  are  accustomed  to  such  a  different  way 
of  living, "  said  Cecil. 

"That's  true.  But  still,  I  think  it  can  somehow  be 
done.  You  must  still  go  on  with  your  sixpenny  dinners, 
Frithiof,  for  it  will  fit  in  better.  Then  as  you  and  Swan- 
hild  will  be  out  all  day  and  I  am  out  for  a  great  part  of 
the  year  in  the  afternoon,  I  think  our  coals  will  last  well, 
only  one  fire  for  a  part  of  the  day  will  surely  not  ruin 
us." 

"Let  me  see  that  neatly  arranged  paper, "said  Frithiof, 
"  I  have  become  rather  a  connoisseur  in  the  matter  of 
cheap  living  and  you  had  better  take  me  intc*  your 
counsels. " 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  207 

"You  don't  know  anything  about  it,"  said  Sigrid,  laugh- 
ing. "Yours  was  not  cheap  living  but  cheap  starving, 
which  in  the  end  is  a  costly  affair." 

Frithiof  did  not  argue  the  point,  having  in  truth  often 
known  what  hunger  meant  in  the  old  days  ;  but  he  pos- 
sessed himself  of  the  paper  and  studied  it  carefully.  It 
contained  for  him  much  more  than  the  bare  details,  it  was 
full  of  great  hope,  of  an  eager  expectation,  the  smallness 
of  each  item  represented  a  stepping-stone  in  the  highway 
of  honor,  a  daily  and  hourly  clearing  of  his  father's  name. 
He  looked  long  at  the  carefully  considered  list. 


£*•  d. 

Rent     

076 

Fuel  and  Light  

O      2      O 

.             .      O       C      O 

Charwoman  

O      1      O 

Clothing  

o  14    o 

Extras       

o    i    6 

Total £2  150 

"With  a  clever  manager  it  will  be  quite  possible,"  he 
said,  "and  you  are  no  novice,  Sigrid,  but  have  been  keep- 
ing house  for  the  last  eleven  years." 

"After  a  fashion,"  she  replied,  "but  old  Gro  really 
managed  things.  However,  I  know  that  I  shall  really 
enjoy  trying  my  hand  at  anything  so  novel,  and  you 
will  have  to  come  and  see  me  very  often,  Cecil,  to  pre- 
vent my  turning  into  a  regular  house-keeping  drudge." 

Cecil  laughed  and  promised,  and  the  two  girls  talked 
merrily  together  as  they  stitched  away  at  the  household 
linen,  Frithiof  looking  up  from  his  newspaper  every  now 
and  then  to  listen.  Things  had  so  far  brightened  with  him 
that  he  was  ready  to  take  up  his  life  again  with  patience, 
but  he  had  his  days  of  depression  even  now,  though,  for 
Sigrid's  sake,  he  tried  not  to  give  way  more  than  could 
be  helped.  There  was  no  denying,  however,  that  Blanche 
had  clouded  his  life,  and  though  he  never  mentioned  her 
name,  and  as  far  as  possible  crowded  the  very  thought  of 
her  out  of  his  mind,  resolutely  turning  to  work,  or  books, 
or  the  lives  of  others,  yet  her  influence  was  still  strong 
with  him,  and  was  one  of  the  worst  foes  he  had  to  fight 
against.  It  was  constantly  mocking  him  with  the  vanity 
of  human  hopes,  with  the  foolishness  of  his  perfect  trust 


208  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

which  had  been  so  grossly  betrayed ;  it  was  an  eternal 
temptation  to  think  less  highly  of  women,  to  take  refuge 
in  cynical  contempt,  and  to  sink  into  a  hard  joyless 
skepticism. 

On  the  other  hand,  Sigrid,  as  his  sister,  and  Cecil,  as  a 
perfectly  frank  and  outspoken  friend,  were  no  small  help 
to  him  in  the  battle.  They  could  not  altogther  enter  into 
his  thoughts  or  wholly  understand  the  loneliness  and  bitter- 
ness of  his  life,  any  more  than  he  could  enter  into  their 
difficulties,  for,  even  when  surrounded  by  those  we  love, 
it  is  almost  always  true  that 

"  Our  hermit  spirits  dwell  and  range  apart." 

But  they  made  life  a  very  different  thing  to  him  and 
gave  him  courage  to  go  on,  for  they  were  a  continual  pro- 
test against  that  lowered  side  of  womanhood  that  Blanche 
had  revealed  to  him.  One  woman  having  done  her  best 
to  ruin  the  health  alike  of  his  body  and  his  soul,  it  re- 
mained for  these  two  to  counteract  her  bad  influence,  and 
to  do  for  him  all  that  can  be  done  by  sisterly  love  and 
pure  unselfish  friendship. 

If  there  is  one  thing  more  striking  to  an  observer  of  life 
than  any  other  it  is  the  strange  law  of  compensation,  and 
its  wholly  unexpected  working.  We  see  people  whose 
lives  are  smooth  and  easy  rendered  miserable  by  some 
very  trifling  cause.  And,  again,  we  see  people  whose 
griefs  and  wrongs  are  heart-rending,  and  behold  in  spite 
of  their  sorrows  they  can  take  pleasure  in  some  very 
slight  amusement,  which  seems  to  break  into  their  dark- 
ened lives  with  a  welcome  brightness  enhanced  by  con- 
trast. It  was  thus  with  Frithiof.  He  entered,  as  men 
seldom  trouble  themselves  to  enter,  into  all  the  minutiae  of 
the  furnishing,  spent  hours  in  Roy's  work-shop  busy  at 
the  carpenter's  bench  over  such  things  as  could  be  made 
or  mended,  and  enjoyetl  heartily  the  planning  and  ar- 
ranging which  a  year  ago  he  would  have  voted  an  intoler- 
able bore. 

At  length  the  day  came  when  they  were  to  leave 
Rowan  Tree  House.  Every  one  was  sorry  to  lose  them, 
and  they  felt  going  very  much,  for  it  was  impossible  to 
express  how  much  those  restful  weeks  had  done  for  them 
both.  They  each  tried  to  say  something  of  the  sort  to 
Mr,  and  Mrs.  Boniface,  but  not  very  successfully,  for 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  209 

Sigrid  broke  down  and  cried,  and  Frithiof  felt  that  to  put 
very  deep  gratitude  into  words  is  a  task  which  might  well 
baffle  the  readiest  speaker.  However,  there  was  little 
need  for  speech  on  either  side. 

"  And  when  you  want  change  or  rest,"  said  Mrs.  Boni- 
face, shaking  his  hand  warmly,  "you  have  only  got  to 
lock  up  your  rooms  and  come  down  here  to  us.  There 
will  always  be  a  welcome  ready  for  the  three  of  you. 
Don't  forget  that." 

"  Let  it  be  your  second  home,"  said  Mr.  Boniface. 

Cecil,  who  was  the  one  to  feel  most,  said  least.  She 
merely  shook  hands  with  him,  made  some  trifling  remark 
about  the  time  of  Swanhild's  train,  and  wished  him 
good-bye  ;  then,  with  a  sore  heart,  watched  the  brother 
and  sister,  as  they  stepped  into  the  carriage  and  drove 
away. 

That  chapter  of  her  life  was  over,  and  she  was  quite 
well  aware  that  the  next  chapter  would  seem  terribly  dull 
and  insipid.  For  a  moment  the  thought  alarmed  her. 

"  What  have  I  been  doing,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  to  let 
this  love  get  so  great  a  hold  on  me  ?  Why  is  it  that  no 
other  man  in  the  world  seems  to  me  worth  a  thought, 
even  though  he  may  be  better,  and  may  live  a  nobler  life 
than  Frithiof?" 

She  could  not  honestly  blame  herself,  for  it  seemed  to 
her  that  this  strange  love  had,  as  the  poet  says,  "Slid 
into  her  soul  like  light."  Unconsciously  it  had  begun  at 
their  very  first  meeting  on  the  steamer  at  Bergen  ;  it  had 
caused  that  vague  trouble  and  uneasiness  which  had 
seized  her  at  Balholm,  and  had  sprung  into  conscious 
existence  when  Frithiof  had  come  to  them  in  England 
poor,  heartbroken,  and  despairing.  The  faithlessness  of 
another  woman  had  revealed  to  her  the  passionate  devo- 
tion which  surged  in  her  own  heart,  and  during  these 
weeks  of  close  companionship  her  love  had  deepened  in- 
expressibly. She  faced  these  facts  honestly,  with  what 
Mrs.  Homer  would  have  termed  "an  entire  absence  of 
maidenly  propriety."  For  luckily  Cecil  was  not  in  the 
habit  of  marshaling  her  thoughts  into  the  prim  routine 
prescribed  by  the  world  in  general ;  she  had  deeper  prin- 
ciples to  fall  back  upon  than  the  conventionalities  of  such 
women  as  Mrs.  Homer,  and  she  did  not  think  it  well 
either  willfully  to  blind  herself  to  the  truth,  or  to  cheat 
her  heart  into  believing  a  lie.  Quite  quietly  she 
14 


210  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

to  herself  that  she  loved  Frithiof  ;  with  a  pain  which  it 
was  impossible  to  ignore,  she  allowed  that  he  did  not 
love  her,  and  that  it  was  quite  possible — nay,  highly 
probable — that  she  might  never  be  fit  to  be  more  to  him 
than  a  friend. 

Here  were  the  true  facts,  and  she  must  make  the  best 
she  could  of  them.  The  thought  somehow  braced  her 
up.  Was  "  the  best "  to  sit  there  in  her  room  sobbing  as 
if  her  heart  would  break  ?  How  could  her  tears  serve 
Frithiof?  How  could  they  do  anything  but  weaken  her 
own  character  and  unfit  her  for  work  ?  They  did  not 
even  relieve  her,  for  such  pain  is  to  be  relieved,  not  by 
tears,  but  by  active  life.  No  ;  she  must  just  go  on  living 
and  making  the  most  of  what  had  been  given  her,  leaving 
the  rest 

«  In  His  high  hand 
Who  doth  hearts  like  streams  command." 

For  her  faith  was  no  vague  shadow,  but  a  most  practical 
reality,  and  in  all  her  pain  she  was  certain  that  somehow 
this  love  of  hers  was  to  be  of  use,  as  all  real  love  is  bound 
to  be.  She  stood  for  some  minutes  at  the  open  window  ; 
a  bird  was  perched  on  a  tree  close  by,  and  she  watched 
it  and  noticed  how,  when  suddenly  it  flew  away,  the 
branch  quivered  and  trembled. 

"  It  is  after  all  only  natural  to  feel  this  going  away," 
she  reflected.  "Like  the  tree,  I  shall  soon  grow  steady 
again."  And  then  she  heard  Lance's  voice  calling  her, 
and,  going  to  the  nursery,  found  a  childish  dispute  in  need 
of  settling,  and  tiny  arms  to  cling  about  her,  and  soft 
kisses  to  comfort  her. 

Meanwhile,  Frithiof  and  Sigrid  had  reached  the  model 
lodgings,  and,  key  in  hand,  were  toiling  up  the  long 
flights  of  stone  stairs.  All  had  been  arranged  on  the 
previous  day,  and  now,  as  they  unlocked  their  door,  the 
moment  seemed  to  them  a  grave  one,  for  they  were 
about  to  begin  a  new  and  unknown  life.  Sigrid's  heart 
beat  quickly  as  they  entered  the  little  sitting-room.  The 
door  opened  straight  into  it,  which  was  a  drawback,  but 
Mrs.  Boniface's  present  of  a  fourfold  Japanese  screen 
gave  warmth  and  privacy,  and  picturesqueness,  by  shut- 
ting off  that  corner  from  view  ;  and,  in  spite  of  extreme 
economy  in  furnishing,  the  place  looked  very  pretty.  A 
cheerful  crimson  carpet  covered  the  floor  ;  the  buff-colored 


A  HARD  Y  NORSEMAN.  2 1 1 

walls  were  bare  indeed,  for  there  was  a  rule  against  knock- 
ing in  nails,  but  the  picture  of  Bergen  stood  on  the  man- 
telpiece between  the  photographs  of  their  father  and 
mother,  serving  as  a  continual  remembrance  of  home 
and  of  a  countryman's  kindness.  Facing  the  fire  was  a 
cottage  piano  lent  by  Mr.  Boniface  for  as  long  as  they 
liked  to  keep  it,  and  on  the  open  shelves  above  a  corner 
cupboard  were  ranged  the  blue  willow-pattern  cups  and 
saucers  which  Sigrid  had  delighted  in  buying. 

"  They  were  much  too  effective  to  be  banished  to  the 
kitchen,  were  they  not  ?  "  she  said.  "I  am  sure  they  are 
far  prettier  than  a  great  deal  of  the  rare  old  china  I  have 
seen  put  up  in  drawing-rooms." 

"  How  about  the  fire?"  said  Frithiof.  "Shall  I  light 
it?" 

"Yes;  do.  We  must  have  a  little  one  to  boil  the 
kettle,  and  Swanhild  is  sure  to  come  in  cold  after  that 
long  journey.  I'll  just  put  these  flowers  into  Cecil's 
little  vases.  How  lovely  they  are !  Do  you  know, 
Frithiof,  I  think  our  new  life  is  going  to  be  like  the 
smell  of  these  chrysanthemums — healthy  and  good,  and 
a  sort  of  bitter-sweet." 

"I  never  knew  they  had  any  smell,"  he  said,  still 
intent  on  his  fire. 

"  Live  arrd  learn,"  said  Sigrid,  laughingly  holding  out 
to  him  the  basket  of  beautiful  flowers — red,  white,  crim- 
son, yellow,  russet,  and  in  every  variety. 

He  owned  that  she  was  right.  And  just  as  with  the 
scent  of  violets  there  always  rose  before  him  the  picture 
of  the  crowded  church,  and  of  Blanche  in  her  bridal  dress, 
so  ever  after  the  scent  of  chrysanthemums  brought  back 
to  him  the  bright  little  room  and  the  flickering  light  of  the 
newly-kindled  fire,  and  Sigrid's  golden  hair  and  sweet 
face.  So  that,  in  truth,  these  flowers  were  to  him  a  sort 
of  tonic,  as  she  had  said,  "  Healthy  and  good." 

"  I  should  like  to  come  to  King's  Cross  too,"  said 
Sigrid.  "But  perhaps  it  is  better  that  I  should  stay  here 
and  get  things  quite  ready.  I  hope  Swanhild  will  turn  up 
all  right.  She  seems  such  a  little  thing  to  travel  all  that 
way  alone." 

When  he  had  set  off,  she  began  with  great  satisfaction 
to  lay  the  table  for  tea  ;  the  white  cloth  was  certainly 
coarse,  but  she  had  bought  it  and  hemmed  it,  and  de- 
clared that  fine  damask  would  not  have  suited  the  willow* 


212  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

pattern  plates  nearly  so  well.  Then,  after  a  struggle,  the 
tin  of  pressed  beef  was  opened,  and  the  loaf  and  butter 
and  the  vases  of  chrysanthemums  put  in  their  places,  and 
the  toast  made  and  standing  before  the  fire  to  keep  hot. 
After  that  she  kept  putting  a  touch  here  and  a  touch  there 
to  one  thing  and  another,  and  then  standing  back  to  see 
how  it  looked,  much  as  an  artist  does  when  finishing  a 
picture.  How  would  it  strike  Swanhild?  was  the  thought 
which  was  always  with  her.  She  put  everything  tidy  in 
the  bare  little  kitchen,  where,  in  truth,  there  was  not  one 
unnecessary  piece  of  furniture.  She  took  some  of  Frith- 
iof  s  things  out  of  his  portmanteau,  and  made  his  narrow 
little  bedroom  look  more  habitable  ;  and  she  lingered 
long  in  the  room  \vith  the  two  beds  side  by  side,  tidying 
and  arranging  busily,  but  running  back  into  the  sitting- 
room  every  few  minutes  to  see  that  all  was  well  there. 

At  last  she  heard  the  door  handle  turned,  and  Frithiofs 
voice. 

"  You'll  find  her  quite  a  domesticated  character,"  he 
was  saying  ;  and  in  another  minute  Swanhild  was  in  her 
arms,  none  the  worse  for  her  lonely  jourrfey,  but  very 
glad  to  feel  her  cares  at  an  end. 

"  Oh,  Sigrid  !  "  she  cried,  with  childlike  glee  ;  "what  a 
dear,  funny  little  room  !  And  how  cozy  you  have  made 
it !  Why,  there's  the  picture  of  Bergen  !  and  oh,  what  a 
pretty-looking  tea-table  !  I'm  dreadfully  hungry,  Sigrid. 
I  was  afraid  to  get  out  of  the  train  for  fear  it  should  go  on. 
They  seem  to  go  so  dreadfully  fast  here,  everything  is  in 
a  bustle." 

"  You  poor  child,  you  must  be  starving  !  "  cried  Sigrid. 
"  Come  and  take  your  things  off  quickly.  She  really  looks 
quite  thin  and  pale,  does  she  not,  Frithiof?  " 

He  glanced  at  the  fair,  merry  little  face,  smiling  at  him 
from  under  its  fringe  of  goldeto  hair. 

"  She  doesn't  feel  so  very  bony,"  he  said,  laughing. 

"  Oh,  and  I  did  eAt  something,"  explained  Swanhild. 
"There  was  an  old  lady  who  gave  me  two  sandwiches, 
but  they  were  so  dreadfully  full  of  fat.  I  do  really  think 
there  ought  to  be  a  law  against  putting  fat  in  sandwiches 
so  that  you  bite  a  whole  mouthful  of  it." 

They  all  laughed,  and  Frithiof,  who  was  unstrapping 
the  box  which  he  had  carried  up,  looked  so  cheerful  and 
bright  that  Sigrid  began  to  think  Swanhild  might  prove 
a  very  valuable  little  companion, 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  213 

"  What  do  you  think  of  your  new  bedroom  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  It's  lovely  !  "  cried  Swanhild.  "What  a  funny,  round 
bath,  and  such  a  tiny  tin  washing-stand,  just  like  the 
one  in  the  old  doll's  house  on  three  legs.  And  oh,  Sigrid, 
auntie  has  sent  us  three  lovely  eider-down  quilts  as  a 
Christmas  present,  only  she  thought  I  might  as  well  bring 
them  now." 

It  was  a  very  merry  meal,  that  first  tea  in  the  model 
lodgings.  Swanhild  had  so  much  to  tell  them  and  so 
much  to  hear,  and  they  lingered  at  the  table  with  a  pleas- 
ant consciousness  that  actual  work  did  not  begin  till  the 
following  day. 

"There's  one  thing  which  we  had  better  make  up  our 
minds  to  at  once,"  said  Sigrid,  when  at  length  they  rose. 
"Since  we  have  got  to  wait  on  ourselves,  we  may  as  well 
try  to  enjoy  it  and  get  what  fun  we  can  out  of  it.  Come, 
Swanhild,  I  will  wash  the  tea-things  and  you  shall  dry 
them." 

"As  forme,"  said  Frithiof,  suddenly  appearing  at  the 
kitchen  door  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  "  I  am  shoe-black  to  the 
establishment." 

"You!  oh,  Frithiof!"  cried  Swanhild,  startled  into 
gravity.  There  was  something  incongruous  in  the  idea 
of  her  big  brother  turning  to  this  sort  of  work. 

"I  assure  you  ii  is  in  the  bond,"  he  said,  smiling. 
"Sigrid  is  cook  and  housekeeper  ;  you  are  the  lady-help  ; 
and  I  am  the  man  for  the  coals,  knives,  and  boots.  Every 
respectable  household  has  a  man  for  that  part  of  the  work, 
you  know." 

"Yes,  yes,"  she  hesitated;  "but  you " 

"She  clearly  doesn't  think  me  competent,"  he  said, 
laughingly  threatening  her  with  his  brush. 

"Order!  order!  you  two,  or  there  will  be  tea-cups 
broken,  "'said  Sigrid,  laughing.  "I  believe  he  will  do  the 
boots  quite  scientifically,  for  he  has  really  studied  the 
subject.  There,  put  the  china  in  the  sitting-room,  Swan- 
hild, on  the  corner  shelves,  and  then  we  will  come  and 
unpack." 

By  nine  o'clock  everything  was  arranged,  and  they  came 
back  to  the  sitting-room,  where  Frithiof  had  lighted  the 
pretty  little  lamp,  and  wa,s  writing  to  Herr  Sivertsen  to 
say  he  would  be  glad  of  more  work. 

" Come, "  said  Sigrid,  "the  evening  won't  be  complete 
without  some  music,  and  I  am  dying  to  try  that  piano. 


214.  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

What  shall  be  the  first  thing-  we  play  in  our  new  home, 
Swanhild  ?  " 

"  '  For  Norge,'  "  said  the  little  girl,  promptly. 

"  Do  you  know  we  had  quite  a  discussion  about  that 
at  Rowan  Tree  House  the  other  night,"  said  Sigrid. 
"They  were  all  under  the  impression  that  it  was  an 
English  air,  and  only  knew  it  as  a  glee  called  '  The  Hardy 
Norseman.'  Mr.  Boniface  calls  Frithiof  his  Hardy  Norse- 
man, because  he  got  well  so  quickly." 

"  Come  and  sing,  Frithiof,  do  come,"  pleaded  Swanhild 
slipping  her  hand  caressingly  into  his  and  drawing  him 
toward  the  piano.  And  willingly  enough  he  consented, 
and  in  their  new  home  in  this  foreign  land,  they  sang  to- 
gether the  stirring  national  song — 

"  To  Norway,  mother  of  the  brave, 
We  crown  the  cup  of  pleasure, 
And  droam  our  freedom  come  again, 
And  grasp  the  vanished  treasure. 
When  once  the  mighty  task's  begun, 
The  glorious  race  is  swift  to  run  ; 
To  Norway,  mother  of  the  brave, 
We  crown  the  cup  of  pleasure. 

Then  drink  to  Norway's  hills  sublime, 
Rocks,  snows,  and  glens  profound  ; 
'  Success!'  her  thousand  echoes  cry, 
And  thank  us  with  the  sound. 
Old  Dovre  mingles  with  our  glee, 
And  joins  our  shouts  with  three  times  three. 
Then  drink  to  Norway's  hills  sublime^ 
Rocks,  snows,  and  glens  profound." 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

"  MY  dear,  she  is  charming,  your  little  Swanhild  !  She 
is  a  born  dancer  and  catches  up  everything  with  the  great- 
est ease,"  said  Madame  Lechertier  one  autumn  after- 
noon, when  Sigrid  at  the  usual  time  entered  the  big,  bare 
room  where  the  classes  were  held.  She  was  dressed  at 
Madame's  request  in  her  pretty  peasant  costume,  and 
Swanhild,  also,  had  for  the  first  time  donned  hers,  which, 
unlike  Sigrid's,  was  made  with  the  shortest  of  skirts,  and, 
as  Madame  Lechertier  said,  would  prove  an  admirable 
dress  for  a  pupil  teacher. 


A  HARD  Y  NORSEMAN.  j  15 

"You  think  she  will  really  be  of  use  to  you,  madame  ? " 
asked  Sigrid,  glancing  to  the  far  end  of  the  big  room, 
where  the  child  was,  for  her  own  amusement,  practicing 
a  step  which  she  had  just  learned.  "  If  she  is  no  good 
we  should  not  of  course  like  her  to  take  any  money." 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  Madame  Lechertier,  patting  her  on  the 
shoulder  caressingly.  "You  are  independent  and  proud, 
I  know  it  well  enough.  But  I  assure  you,  Swanhild  will 
be  a  first-rate  little  teacher,  and  I  am  delighted  to  have 
her.  There  is  no  longer  any  need  for  her  to  come  to  me 
every  morning,  for  I  have  taught  her  all  that  she  will  at 
present  need,  and  no  doubt  you  are  in  a  hurry  for  her  to 
go  on  with  her  ordinary  schooling." 

"  I  have  arranged  for  her  to  go  to  a  high  school,  in  the 
mornings  after  Christmas,"  said  Sigrid,  "and  she  must, 
till  then,  work  well  at  her  English  or  she  will  not  take  a 
good  place.  It  will  be  a  very  busy  life  for  her,  but  then 
we  are  all  of*  us  strong  and  able  to  get  through  a  good 
deal." 

"  And  her  work  with  me  is  purely  physical  and  will 
not  overtask  her,"  said  Madame,  glancing  with  approving 
eyes  at  the  pretty  little  figure  at  the  end  of  the  room. 
"  Dear  little  soul  !  she  has  the  most  perfect  manners  I 
ever  saw  in  a  child  !  Her  charm  to  me  is  that  she  is  so 
bright  and  unaffected.  What  is  it,  I  wonder,  that  makes 
you  Norwegians  so  spontaneous,  so  perfectly  simple  and 
courteous  ? " 

"  In  England,"  said  Sigrid,  "  people  seem  to  me  to  have 
two  sides,  a  rough  home  side,  and  a  polite  society  side. 
The  Bonifaces  reverse  the  order,  and  keep  their  beautiful 
side  for  home  and  a  rather  shy  side  for  society,  but  still 
they,  like  all  the  English  people  I  have  met,  have  dis- 
tinctly  two  manners.  In  Norway  there  is  nothing  of  that. 
I  think  perhaps  we  think  less  about  the  impression  we  are 
making ;  and  I  think  Norwegians  more  naturally  respect 
each  other." 

She  was  quite  right ;  it  was  this  beautiful  respect,  thi« 
reverence  for  the  rights  and  liberties  of  each  other  that 
made  the  little  home  in  the  model  lodgings  so  happy;  while 
her  own  sunny  brightness  and  sweetness  of  temper  made 
the  atmosphere  wholesome.  Frithiof,  once  more  amid 
congenial  surroundings,  seemed  to  regain  his  native  court- 
esy, and  though  Mr.  Horner  still  disliked  him,  most  of 
those  with  whom  he  daily  came  in  contact  learned  at  any 


2i6  A  tfARDY  NORSEMAN. 

rare  to  respect  him  and  readily  forgave  him  his  past  pride 
and  haughtiness  when  they  learned  how  ill  he  had  been  and 
saw  what  a  change  complete  recovery  had  wrought  in  him. 

Swanhild  prospered  well  on  that  first  Saturday  afternoon, 
and  Madame  Lechertier  was  quite  satisfied  with  her  little 
idea  as  to  the  Norwegian  costumes  ;  the  pretty  foreigner 
at  the  piano,  and  the  dainty  little  Norse  girl  who  danced 
so  bewitchingly,  caused  quite  a  sensation  in  the  class,  and 
the  two  sisters  went  home  in  high  spirits,  delighted  to 
have  pleased  their  kind-hearted  employer.  They  had  only 
just  returned  and  taken  off  their  walking  things  when 
there  came  a  loud  knock  at  the  door.  Swanhild  still  in 
her  Hardanger  dress  ran  to  see  what  was  wanted,  and 
could  hardly  help  laughing  at  the  funny-looking  old  man 
who  inquired  whether  Frithiof  were  in. 

"Still  out,  you  say,"  he  panted  ;  "  very  provoking.  I 
specially  wanted  to  see  him  on  a  matter  of  urgency." 

"Will  you  not  come  in  and  wait?"  said  the  child. 
"Frithiof  will  soon  be  home.' 

"Thank  you,"  said  old  Herr  Sivertsen.  These  stairs 
are  terrible  work.  I  shall  be  glad  not  to  have  to  climb 
them  again.  But  houses  are  all  alike  in  London — all 
alike  !  Story  after  story,  till  they're  no  better  than  the 
tower  of  Babel." 

Sigrid  came  forward  with  her  pretty,  bright  greeting  and 
made  the  old  man  sit  down  by  the  fire. 

"  Frithiof  has  gone  for  a  walk  with  a  friend  of  his/'  she 
explained.  "  But  he  will  be  home  in  a  few  minutes.  I 
always  persuade  him  to  take  a  good  walk  on  Saturday,  if 
possible." 

"  In  consequence  of  which  he  doesn't  get  through  half 
as  much  work  for  me,"  said  Herr  Sivertsen.  "  However, 
you  are  quite  right  He  needed  more  exercise.  Is  he 
quite  well  again  ?  " 

"  Quite  well,  thank  you  ;  though  I  suppose  he  will  never 
be  so  strong  as  he  once  was,"  she  said  a  little  sadly. 
"You  see  overwork  and  trouble  and  poor  living  must  in 
the  long  run  injure  even  a  strong  man." 

"  There  are  no  strong  men  nowadays,  it  seems  to  me," 
said  the  old  author  gruffly.  "They  all  knock  up  sooner 
or  later — a  degenerate  race — a  worthless  generation." 

"Well,  the  doctor  says  he  must  have  had  a  very  fine 
constitution  to  have  recovered  so  fast,"  said  Sigrid. 
"  Still,  I  feel  rather  afraid  sometimes  of  his  doing  too  much 


A  tfARD  Y  NORSEMAN.  2 1 7 

again.  Were  you  going  to  suggest  some  more  work  for 
him  ? " 

"Yes,  I  was  ;  but  perhaps  it  is  work  in  which  you  could 
help  him,"  said  Herr  Sivertsen,  and  he  explained  to  her 
his  project. 

"If  only  I  could  make  time  for  it,"  she  cried  "But 
you  see  we  all  have  very  busy  lives.  I  have  to  see  to  the 
house  almost  entirely  and  there  is  always  either  mending 
or  making  in  hand.  And  Swanhild  and  I  are  out  every 
afternoon  at  Madame  Lechertier's  academy.  By-the-by, 
that  is  why  wTe  have  on  these  peasant  costumes,  which 
must  have  surprised  you." 

"It  is  a  pretty  dress,  and  takes  me  back  to  my  old 
days  at  home,"  said  Herr  Sivertsen.  "As  to  the  work, 
do  what  you  can  of  it,  there  is  no  immediate  hurry. 
Here  comes  your  brother !  "  and  the  old  man  at  once 
buttonholed  Frithiof,  while  Roy,  who  had  returned  with 
him,  was  ready  enough  to  talk  with  Sigrid  as  she  stood  by 
the  fire  making  toast,  little  Swanhild  in  the  mean  time 
setting  the  table  for  afternoon  tea,  lighting  the  lamp,  and 
drawing  the  curtains. 

Herr  Sivertsen  found  himself  drinking  tea  before  he 
knew  what  he  was  about,  and  the  novelty  of  the  little 
household  quite  shook  him  out  of  his  gruff  surliness. 
Strange  by-gone  memories  came  floating  back  to  him  as 
he  listened  to  the  two  girls'  merry  talk,  watched  them  as 
suddenly  they  broke  into  an  impromptu  dance,  and 
begged  them  to  sing  to  him  the  old  tunes  which  for  so 
many  years  he  had  not  heard. 

"I  am  sorry  to  say,"  observed  Sigrid  laughing,  "that 
our  next  door  neighbor,  Mrs.  Hallifield,  tells  me  the  gen- 
eral belief  in  the  house  is  that  we  belong  to  the  Christy 
Minstrels.  English  people  don't  seem  to  understand  that 
one  can  dance  and  sing  at  home  for  pure  pleasure  and  not 
professionally." 

After  that  the  old  author  often  paid  them  a  visit,  and 
they  learned  to  like  him  very  much  and  to  enjoy  his 
tirades  against  the  degenerate  modern  race.  And  thus 
with  hard  work,  enlivened  now  and  then  by  a  visit  to 
Rowan  Tree  House,  or  by  a  call  from  the  Bonifaces,  the 
winter  slipped  by,  and  the  trees  grew  green  once  more, 
and  they  were  obliged  to  own  that  even  this  smoky 
London  had  a  beauty  all  its  own. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  anything  so  lovely  as  all  this  pink 


2i8  A  tfARDY  NORSEMAN, 

may  and  yellow  laburnum  ? "  cried  Sigrid,  as  one  spring 
evening  she  and  Frithiof  walked  westward  to  fulfill  one 
of  the  evening  engagements  to  which  they  had  now  be- 
come pretty  well  accustomed. 

"No;  we  had  nothing  equal  to  this  at  Bergen,"  he 
admitted,  and  in  very  good  spirits  they  walked  on,  past 
the  great  wealthy  houses  ;  he  with  his  violin  case,  and 
she  with  a  big  roll  of  music,  well  content  with  the  success 
they  had  worked  hard  to  win,  and  not  at  all  disposed  to 
envy  the  West-end  people.  It  was  indeed  a  great  treat  to 
Sigrid  to  have  a  glimpse  of  so  different  a  life.  She  had 
toiled  so  often  up  the  long  stone  stairs,  that  to  be  shown 
up  a  wide  carpeted  staircase,  into  which  one's  feet  seemed 
to  sink  as  into  moss,  was  a  delightful  change,  and  snugly 
ensconced  in  her  little  corner  behind  the  piano,  she  liked 
to  watch  the  prettily  decorated  rooms  and  the  arrival  of 
the  gayly  dressed  people.  Frithiof,  who  had  at  first 
greatly  disliked  this  sort  of  work,  had  become  entirely 
accustomed  to  it ;  it  no  longer  hurt  his  pride,  for  Sigrid 
had  nearly  succeeded  in  converting  him  to  her  doctrine, 
that  a  noble  motive  ennobles  any  work  ;  and  if  ever 
things  annoyed  him  or  chafed  Ids  independence,  he 
thought  of  the  debts  at  Bergen,  and  was  once  more  ready 
to  endure  anything.  This  evening  he  happened  to  be 
particularly  cheerful ;  things  had  gone  well  lately  at  the 
shop  ;  his  strength  was  increasing  every  day,  and  the 
home  atmosphere  had  done  a  great  deal  to  banish  the 
haunting  thoughts  of  the  past  which  in  solitude  had  so 
preyed  on  his  mind.  They  discussed  the  people  in  Nor- 
wegian during  the  intervals,  and  in  a  quiet  way  were  con- 
triving to  get  a  good  deal  of  fun  out  of  the  evening,  when 
suddenly  their  peace  was  invaded  by  the  unexpected  sight 
of  the  very  face  which  Frithiof  had  so  strenuously  tried  to 
exile  from  his  thoughts.  They  had  just  finished  a  waltz. 
Sigrid  looked  up  from  her  music  and  saw,  only  a  few 
yards  distant  from  her,  the  pretty  willowy  figure,  the 
glowing  face  and  dark  eyes  and  siren-like  smile  of  Lady 
Romiaux.  For  a  moment  her  heart  seemed  to  stop  beat- 
ing, then  with  a  wild  hope  that  possibly  Frithiof  might 
not  have  noticed  her,  she  turned  to  him  with  intense 
anxiety.  But  his  profile  looked  as  though  it  were  carved 
in  white  stone,  and  she  saw  only  too  plainly  that  the  hope 
was  utterly  vain. 

" Frithiof,"  she  said  in  Norwegian,  "you are  faint.     Go 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  2i$ 

out  into  the  cool  and  get  some  water  before  the  next 
dance." 

He  seemed  to  her  hear  voice,  but  not  to  take  in  her 
words ;  there  was  a  dazed  look  in  his  face,  and  such  de- 
spair in  his  eyes  that  her  heart  failed  her.  All  the  terrible 
dread  for  his  health  again  returned  to  her.  It  seemed  as 
if  nothing  could  free  him  from  the  fatal  influence  which 
Blanche  had  gained  over  him. 

How  she  longed  to  get  up  and  rush  from  the  house  ! 
How  she  loathed  that  woman  who  stood  flirting  with  the 
empty-headed  man  standing  at  her  side  !  If  it  had  not 
been  for  her  perfidy  how  different  all  might  now  be ! 

"  I  can't  help  hating  her  !  "  thought  poor  Sigrid.  "She 
has  ruined  Frithiofs  life,  and  now  in  one  moment  has  un- 
done the  work  of  months.  She  brought  about  my  father's 
failure ;  if  she  had  been  true  we  should  not  now  be  toiling 
to  pay  off  these  terrible  debts — hundreds  of  homes  in 
Bergen  would  have  been  saved  from  a  cruel  loss — and  he 
— my  father — he  might  have  been  alive  and  well !  How- 
can  I  help  hating  her  ? " 

At  that  moment  Blanche  happened  to  catch  sight  of 
them.  The  color  deepened  in  her  cheeks. 

"Have  they  come  to  that?"  she  thought.  "Oh,  poor 
things  !  How  sorry  I  am  for  them  !  Papa  told  me  Herr 
Falck  had  failed  ;  but  to  have  sunk  so  low  !  Well,  since 
they  lost  all  their  money  it  was  a  mercy  that  all  was  over 
between  us.  And  yet,  if  I  had  been  true  to  him — " 

Her  companion  wondered  what  made  her  so  silent  all 
at  once.  But  in  truth  poor  Blanche  might  well  be  silent, 
for  into  her  mind  there  had  passed  a  dreadful  vision  of 
past  sins ;  standing  there  in  the  ball-room  1n  her  gay  satin 
dress  and  glittering  diamonds,  there  had  come  to  her 
almost  for  the  first  time  a  sense  of  responsibility  for  the 
evil  she  had  wrought.  It  was  not  Frithiof's  life  alone 
that  she  had  rendered  miserable.  She  had  sinned  far 
more  deeply  against  her  husband  and  though  in  a  sort  of 
bravado  she  tried  to  persuade  herself  that  she  cared  for 
nothing,  and  accepted  the  invitations  sent  her  by  the 
people  who  would  still  receive  her  at  their  houses,  she 
was  all  the  time  most  wretched.  So  strangely  had  good 
and  evil  tendencies  been  mingled  in  her  nature  that  she 
caught  herself  wondering  sometimes  whether  she  really 
was  one  woman  ;  she  had  her  refined  side  and  her  vulgar 
Side ;  she  could  be  one  d_ay_  tender-hearted  and  penitent, 


220  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN: 

and  the  next  day  a  hard  woman  of  the  world  ;  she  could 
at  one  time  be  the  Blanche  of  that  light-hearted  Nor- 
wegian holiday,  and  at  another  the  Lady  Romiaux  o£ 
notority. 

"How  extraordinary  that  I  should  chance  to  meet  my 
Viking  here  !  "  she  thought  to  herself.  "  How  very  much 
older  he  looks  !  How  very  much  his  face  has  altered  ! 
One  would  have  thought  that  to  come  down  in  the  world 
would  have  cowed  him  a  little  ;  but  it  seems  somehow  to 
have  given  him  dignity.  I  positively  feel  afraid  of  him. 
I,  who  could  once  turn  him  round  my  ringer — I,  for 
whom  he  would  have  died  !  How  ridiculous  of  me  to  be 
afraid  !  After  all,  I  could  soon  get  my  old  power  over 
him  if  I  chose  to  try.  I  will  go  and  speak  to  them  ;  it 
would  be  rude  not  to  notice  them  in  their  new  position, 
poor  things." 

With  a  word  of  explanation  to  her  partner  she  hastily 
crossed  "over  to  the  piano.  But  when  she  met  Frithiof  s 
eyes  her  heart  began  to  beat  painfully,  and  once  more 
the  feeling  of  fear  returned  to  her.  He  looked  very  grave, 
very  sad,  very  determined.  The  greeting  which  she  had 
intended  to  speak  died  away  on  her  lips  ;  instead,  she  said 
rather  falteringly  : 

"Will  you  tell  me  the  name  of  the  last  waltz  ? " 

He  bowed  and  began  to  turn  over  the  pile  of  music  to 
find  the  piece. 

"Frithiof,"  she  whispered,  "have  you  forgotten  me? 
Have  you  nothing  to  say  to  me?  " 

But  he  made  as  though  he  did  not  hear  her,  gravely 
handed  her  the  music,  then,  turning  away,  took  up  his 
violin  and  signed  to  Sigrid  to  begin  the  next  dance. 

Poor  Blanche  was  eagerly  claimed  by  her  next  partner, 
and,  with  burning  cheeks  and  eyes  bright  with  unshed 
tears,  was  whirled  off,  though  her  feet  seemed  weighed 
and  almost  refused  to  keep  time  with  that  violin  whose 
tones  seemed  to  tear  her  heart.  "I  have  no  longer  any 
power  over  him,"  she  thought.  "  I  have  so  shocked  and 
disgusted  him  that  he  will  not  even  recognize  me — will 
not  answer  when  I  speak  to  him  !  How  much  nobler  he 
is  than  these  little  toads  with  whom  I  have  to  dance, 
these  wretches  who  flatter  me,  yet  all  the  time  despise  me 
in  their  hearts  !  Oh,  what  a  fool  I  have  been  to  throw 
away  a  heart  like  that,  to  be  dazzled  by  a  mere  name, 
and  worst  of  all,  to  lose  not  only  his  love  but  his  respect ! 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN1.  221 

I  shall  see  his  face  in  a  moment  as  we  go  past  that  corner. 
There  he  is  !  How  sad  and  stern  he  looks,  and  how  res- 
olutely he  goes  on  playing  !  I  shall  hate  this  tune  all 
my  life  long.  I  have  nothing  left  but  the  power  to  give 
him  pain — I  who  long  to  help  him,  who  am  tortured  by 
this  regret !  " 

All  this  time  she  was  answering  the  foolish  words  of  her 
partner  at  random.  And  the  evening  wore  on,  and  she 
laughed  mechanically  and  talked  by  rote,  and  danced, 
oh,  how  wearily  !  thinking  often  of  a  description  of  the 
Inferno  she  had  lately  seen  in  one  of  the  magazines,  in 
which  the  people  were  obliged  to  go  on  pretending  to 
amuse  themselves,  and  dancing,  as  she  now  danced, 
when  they  only  longed  to  lie  down  and  die. 

"But,  after  all  I  can  stop,"  she  reflected.  "I  am  not 
in  the  Inferno  yet — at  least  I  suppose  not,  though  I  doubt 
if  it  can  be  much  worse  than  this.  How  pretty  and  in- 
nocent that  little  fair-haired  girl  looks — white  net  and 
lilies-of-the-valley  ;  I  should  think  it  must  be  her  first 
dance.  Will  she  ever  grow  like  me,  I  wonder  ?  Perhaps 
some  one  will  say  to  her,  'That  is  the  celebrated  Lady 
Romiaux. '  Perhaps  she  will  read  the  newspapers  when 
the  case  comes  on,  as  it  must  come  soon.  They  may  do 
her  terrible  harm.  Oh,  if  only  I  could  undo  the  past !  I 
never  thought  of  all  this  at  the  time.  I  never  thought  till 
now  of  any  one  but  myself." 

That  thought  of  the  possibility  of  stopping  the  dismal 
mockery  of  enjoyment  came  to  her  again,  and  she  eagerly 
seized  the  first  opportunity  of  departure  ;  but  when  once 
the  strain  of  the  excitement  was  over  her  strength  all  at 
once  evaporated.  Feeling  sick  and  faint,  she  lay  back  in 
a  cushioned  chair  in  the  cloak-room  ;  her  gold  plush 
mantle  and  the  lace  mantilla  which  she  wore  on  her  head 
made  her  look  ghastly  pale,  and  the  maid  came  up  to  her 
with  anxious  inquiries. 

"It  is  nothing  but  neuralgia,"  she  replied,  wearily. 
"  Let  them  call  my  carriage." 

And  then  came  a  confused  sound  of  wheels  outside  in  the 
Street  and  shouts  echoing  through  the  night,  while  from 
above  came  the  sound  of  the  dancers,  and  that  resolute, 
indefatigable  violin  still  going  on  with  the  monotonous 
air  of  "Sir  Roger  de  Coverley,"  as  though  it  were  played 
by  a  machine  rather  than  by  a  man  with  a  weary  head 
and  a  heavy  heart.  Blanche  wandered  back  to  recollec- 


222  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

tions  of  Balholm  ;  she  saw  that  merry  throng  in  the  inn 
parlor,  she  saw  Ole  Kvikne  with  his  kindly  smile,  and 
Herr  Falck  with  his  look  of  content,  and  she  flew  down 
the  long  lines  of  merry  dancers  once  more  to  meet 
Frithiof — the  boyish,  happy-looking  Frithiof  with  whom 
she  had  danced  "Sir  Roger"  two  years  ago. 

"  Lady  Romiaux's  carriage  is  at  the  door,"  said  a  voice, 
and  she  hastily  got  up,  made  her  way  through  the  brightly 
lighted  hall,  and,  with  a  sense  of  relief,  stepped  into  her 
brougham.  Still  the  violin  played  on,  its  gay  tune 
ringing  out  with  that  strange  sadness  which  dance  music 
at  a  distance  often  suggests.  Blanche  could  bear  it  no 
longer  ;  she  drew  up  the  carriage  window,  sank  back  into 
the  corner,  and  broke  into  a  passionate  fit  of  weeping. 

It  was  quite  possible  for  Lady  Romiaux  to  go,  but  the 
dance  was  not  yet  over,  and  Frithiof  and  Sigrid  had,  of 
course,  to  stay  to  the  bitter  end.  Sigrid,  tired  as  she  was 
herself,  had  hardly  a  thought  for  anything  except  her  twin. 
As  that  long,  long  evening  wore  on  it  seemed  to  her  that 
if  possible  she  loved  him  better  than  she  had  ever  done 
before  ;  his  quiet  endurance  appealed  to  her  very  strongly, 
but  for  his  sake  she  eagerly  wished  for  the  end,  for  she 
saw  by  the  look  of  his  forehead  that  one  of  his  worst 
headaches  had  come  on. 

And  at  length  the  programme  had  been  toiled  through. 
She  hurried  downstairs  to  put  on  her  cloak  and  hat, 
rejoining  Frithiof  in  a  few  minutes  in  the  crowded  hall, 
where  he  stood  looking,  to  her  fond  fancy,  a  thousand 
times  nobler  and  grander  than  any  of  the  other  men  about 
him. 

He  gave  a  sigh  of  relief  as  they  passed  from  the  heated 
atmosphere  of  the  house  into  the  cool  darkness  without. 
The  stars  were  still  visible,  but  faint  tokens  of  the  coming 
dawn  were  already  to  be  seen  in  the  eastern  sky.  The 
stillness  was  delightful  after  the  noise  of  the  music  and 
dancing,  which  had  so  jarred  upon  him  ;  but  he  realized 
now  how  great  the  strain  had  been,  and  even  out  here  in 
the  quiet  night  it  seemed  to  him  that  shadowy  figures 
were  being  whirled  past  him,  and  that  Blanche's  eyes 
were  still  seeking  him  out. 

"  You  are  very  tired  ?"  asked  Sigrid,  slipping  her  arm 
into  his. 

"Yes,  tired  to  death,"  he  said.  "  It  is  humiliating  for 
a  fellow  to  be  knocked  up  by  so  little," 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  223 

"I  do  not  call  it  'little,'"  she  said  eagerly.  "You 
know  quite  well  it  was  neither  the  heat  nor  the  work 
which  tired  you.  Oh,  Frithiof,  how  could  that  woman 
dare  to  speak  to  you  !  " 

"Hush!"  he  said  sadly.  "Talking  only  makes  it 
worse.  I  wish  you  would  drive  the  thought  out  of  my 
head  with  something  else.  Say  me  some  poetry — 
anything." 

"I  hardly  know  what  I  can  say,  unless  it  is  an  old 
poem  that  Cecil  gave  me  when  we  were  at  Rowan  Tree 
House,  but  I  don't  think  it  is  in  your  style  quite." 

"Anything  will  do,"  he  said. 

"Well,  you  shall  have  it  then  ;  it  is  an  old  fourteenth- 
century  hymn."  And  in  her  clear  voice  she  repeated  the 
following  lines  as  they  walked  home  through  the  deserted 
streets  : 

"  Fighting  the  battle  of  life, 

With  a  weary  heart  and  head ; 
For  in  the  midst  of  the  strife 

The  banners  of  joy  are  fled! 
Fled,  and  gone  out  of  sight, 

When  I  thought  they  were  so  near, 
And  the  murmur  of  hope  this  night 

Is  dying  away  on  my  ear. 

"  Fighting  alone  to-night, 

With  not  even  a  stander  by 
To  cheer  me  on  in  the  fight, 

Or  to  hear  me  when  I  cry ; 
Only  the  Lord  can  hear, 

Only  the  Lord  can  see, 
The  struggle  within,  how  dark  and  drear. 

Though  quiet  the  outside  be. 

"  Lord,  I  would  fain  be  still 

And  quiet  behind  my  shield, 
But  make  me  to  know  thy  will, 

For  fear  I  should  ever  yield ; 
Even  as  now  my  hands, 

So  doth  my  folded  will, 
Lie  waiting  thy  commands, 

Without  one  anxious  thrill. 

"  But  as  with  sudden  pain 

My  hands  unfold  and  clasp, 
So  doth  my  will  stand  up  again 

And  take  its  old  firm  grasp ; 
Nothing  but  perfect  trust, 

And  love  of  thy  perfect  will, 
Can  raise  me  out  of  the  dust, 

And  bid  my  fears  be  still. 


224  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

"  Oh,  Lord,  thou  hidest  thy  face, 

And  the  battle-clouds  prevail ; 
Oh,  grant  me  thy  sweet  grace, 

That  I  may  not  utterly  fail. 
Fighting  alone  to-night, 

With  what  a  beating  heart ! 
Lord  Jesus  in  the  fight, 

Oh !  stand  not  thou  apart !  "  * 

He  made  no  comment  at  all  when  she  had  ended  the 
poem,  but  in  truth  it  had  filled  his  mind  with  other 
thoughts.  And  the  dim,  dreary  streets  through  which 
they  walked,  and  the  gradually  increasing  light  in  the 
east,  seemed  like  a  picture  of  his  own  life,  for  there 
dawned  for  him  in  his  sadness  a  clearer  revelation  of  the 
Unseen  than  had  ever  before  been  granted  him. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

IT  seemed  to  Sigrid  that  she  had  hardly  gone  to  bed 
before  it  was  time  to  get  up  again  ;  she  sleepily  wished 
that  Londoners  would  give  dances  at  more  reasonable 
hours,  then,  remembering  all  that  had  happened,  she 
forgot  her  own  weariness  and  turned  with  an  eager 
question  to  Swanhild.  It  was  the  little  sister's  daily  duty 
to  go  in  and  wake  Frithiof  up,  a  task  of  some  difficulty, 
for  either  his  bad  habit  of  working  at  night  during  his 
lonely  year  in  town,  or  else  his  illness,  had  left  him  with 
a  tendency  to  be  wide  awake  between  twelve  and  two 
and  sound  asleep  between  six  and  seven. 

"You  haven't  called  him  yet,  have  you  ?  "  asked  Sigrid, 
rubbing  her  eyes. 

"  No,  but  it  is  quite  time,"  said  Swanhild,  shutting  up 
her  atlas  and  rearing  up  in  the  bed  where  she  had  been 
luxuriously  learning  geography. 

"Oh,  leave  him  a  little  longer,"  said  Sigrid.  "We 
were  so  late  last  night,  and  his  head  was  so  bad,  that  I 
don't  suppose  he  has  had  much  sleep.  And,  Swanhild, 
whatever  you  do,  don't  speak  of  the  dance  to  him  or  ask 
him  any  questions.  As  ill-luck  would  have  it  Lady 
Romiaux  was  there." 

"Now  Swanhild  was  a  very  imaginative  child,  and  she 

*  "  By  permission  of  Messrs.  MacMillan  &  Co-t  from  "  Rays  of 
Sunlight  for  Dark  Days." 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  225 

was  just  at  the  age  when  girls  form  extravagant  adora- 
tions for  women.  At  Balholm  she  had  worshiped  Blanche  ; 
even  when  told  afterward  how  badly  Frithiof  had  been 
treated  her  love  had  not  faltered,  she  had  invented  every 
possible  excuse  for  her  idol,  and  though  never  able  to 
speak  of  her,  still  cherished  a  little  hoard  of  souvenirs  of 
Balholm.  There  is  something  laughable  and  yet  touching 
in  these  girlish  adorations,  and  as  safeguards  against 
premature  thoughts  of  real  love  they  are  certainly  worthy 
of  all  encouragement.  Men  were  at  present  nothing  at 
all  to  her  but  a  set  of  big  brothers,  who  did  well  enough 
as  playfellows.  All  the  romance  of  her  nature  was  spent 
on  an  ideal  Blanche — how  unlike  the  real  Lady  Romiaux 
innocent  S vvanhild  never  guessed.  While  the  world  talked 
hard  things,  this  little  Norwegian  girl  was  secretly  kissing 
a  fir  cone,  which  Blanche  had  once  picked  up  on  their 
way  to  the  priest's  saeter,  or  furtively  unwrapping  a 
withered  rose  which  had  been  fastened  in  Blanche's  hair 
at  the  merry  dance  on  that  Saturday  night.  Her  heart 
beat  so  fast  that  she  felt  almost  choked  when  Sigrid 
suddenly  mentioned  Lady  Romiaux's  name. 

"  How  was  she  looking,"  she  asked,  turning  away  her 
blushing  face  with  the  most  comical  parody  of  a  woman's 
innate  tendency  to  hide  her  love. 

"Oh,  she  was  looking  just  as  usual,  as  pretty,  and  as 
siren-like  as  ever,  wretched  woman  !  "  Then,  remember- 
ing that  Swanhild  was  too  young  to  hear  all  the  truth,  she 
suddenly  drew  up.  "But  there,  don't  speak  of  her  any 
more.  I  never  wish  to  hear  her  name  again." 

Poor  Swanhild  sighed  ;  she  thought  Sigrid  very  hard  and 
unforgiving,  and  this  made  her  cling  all  the  more  to  her 
beloved  ideal ;  it  was  true  she  had  been  faithless  to  Frithiof, 
but  no  doubt  she  was  very  sorry  by  this  time,  and  as  the 
child  knelt  down  to  say  her  morning  prayers  she  paused 
long  over  the  petition  for  "Blanche,"  which  for  all  this 
time  had  never  been  omitted  once. 

Frithiof  came  to  breakfast  only  a  few  minutes  before 
the  time  when  he  had  to  start  for  business.  His  eyes 
looked  very  heavy,  and  his  face  had  the  pale,  set  look 
which  Sigrid  had  learned  to  interpret  only  too  well.  She 
knew  that  while  they  had  been  sleeping  he  had  been 
awake,  struggling  with  those  old  memories  which  at  times 
would  return  to  him  ;  he  had  conquered,  but  the  conquest 
had  left  him  weary  and  exhausted  and  depressed 

4 


226  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

"  If  only  she  had  been  true  to  him  !  "  thought  Swanhild. 
"Poor  Blanche  !  if  he  looked  at  all  like  this  last  night  how 
terribly  sorry  she  must  have  felt." 

After  all,  the  child  with  her  warm-hearted  forgiveness, 
and  her  scanty  knowledge  of  facts,  was  perhaps  a  good 
deal  nearer  the  truth  than  Sigrid.  Certainly  Blanche  was 
not  the  ideal  of  her  dreams,  but  she  was  very  far  from  be- 
ing the  hopelessly  depraved  character  that  Sigrid  deemed 
her  ;  she  was  a  woman  who  had  sinned  very  deeply,  but 
she  was  not  utterly  devoid  of  heart,  and  there  were 
gleams  of  good  in  her  to  which  the  Norwegian  girl,  in  her 
hot  indignation,  was  altogether  blind.  Sigrid  was  not  fault- 
less, and  as  with  Frithiof,  so  there  lingered  too  with  her  a 
touch  of  the  fierce,  unforgiving  spirit  which  had  governed 
their  Viking  ancestors. 

More  than  once  that  morning  as  she  moved  about  her 
household  tasks  she  said  under  her  breath — "  I  wish  that 
woman  were  dead  !  I  wish  she  were  dead  !  " 

"You  don't  look  well  this  morning,  Mr.  Falck,"  said 
the  foreman,  a  cheerful,  bright-eyed,  good-hearted  old 
man,  who  had  managed  to  bring  up  a  large  family  on  his 
salary,  and  to  whom  Frithiof  had  often  applied  for  advice 
on  the  subject  of  domestic  economy.  The  two  liked  each 
other  now,  cordially,  and  worked  well  together,  Foster 
having  altogether  lost  the  slight  prejudice  he  had  at  first 
felt  against  the  foreigner. 

"We  were  up  late  last  night,"  said  Frithiof,  by  way  of 
explanation.  But  the  old  man  was  shrewd  and  quick- 
sighted,  and  happening  later  on  to  be  in  Mr.  Boniface's 
private  room,  he  seized  the  opportunity  to  remark — 

"We  shall  have  Mr.  Falck  knocking  up  again,  sir,  if  I'm 
not  mistaken  ;  he  is  looking  very  ill  to-day." 

"I'm  sorry  to  hear  that,"  said  Mr.  Boniface.  "You 
were  quite  right  to  tell  me,  Foster.  We  will  see  what  can 
be  done." 

And  the  foreman  knew  that  there  was  no  favoritism  in 
this  speech,  for  Mr  Boniface  considered  the  health  of  his 
employes  as  a  matter  of  the  very  highest  importance,  and 
being  a  Christian  first  and  a  tradesman  afterward,  did  not 
consider  money-making  to  be  the  great  object  of  life. 
Many  a  time  good  old  Foster  himself  had  been  sent 
down  for  a  few  days  at  the  seaside  with  his  family,  and 
it  was  perhaps  a  vivid  remembrance  of  the  delights  of 
West  Codrington  that  made  him  add  as  he  left  the  room — 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  227 

"  He  looks  to  me,  sir,  as  if  he  needed  bracing  up." 

Mr.  Boniface  was  much  of  the  same  opinion  when  he 
noticed  Frithiof  later  on  in  the  day.  A  thoroughly  good 
salesman  the  Norwegian  had  always  been — clear-headed, 
courteous,  and  accurate  ;  but  now  the  look  of  effort  which 
he  had  borne  for  some  time  before  his  illness  was  clearly 
visible,  and  Mr.  Boniface  seized  the  first  chance  he  could 
get  of  speaking  to  him  alone.  About  five  o'clock  there 
came  a  lull  in  the  tide  of  customers  ;  Darnell,  the  man 
at  the  opposite  counter,  had  gone  to  tea,  and  Frithiof 
had  gone  back  to  his  desk  to  enter  some  songs  in  the 
order-list. 

"  Frithiof,"  said  Mr.  Boniface,  coming  over  to  him  and 
dropping  the  somewhat  more  formal  style  of  address  which 
he  generally  used  toward  him  during  business  hours, 
"  you  have  got  one  of  your  bad  headaches." 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  Norwegian  candidly,  "but  it  is  not 
a  disabling  one.  I  shall  get  through  all  right." 

"What  plans  have  you  made  cor  your  Whitsuntide  holi- 
day ? " 

"  I  don't  think  we  had  made  any  plan  at  all." 

"Then  I  want  you  all  to  come  away  with  us  for  a  few 
days,"  said  the  shopowner.  "You  look  to  me  as  if  you 
wanted  rest.  Come  to  us  for  a  week,  I  will  arrange  for 
your  absence." 

"You  are  very  good,"  said  Frithiof  warmly.  "But  in- 
deed I  would  rather  only  take  the  general  holiday  of  Sat- 
urday to  Tuesday.  I  am  not  in  the  least  ill,  and  would 
rather  not  take  extra  days  when  there  is  no  need." 

"Independent  as  ever!"  said  Mr.  Boniface,  with  a 
smile.  "Well,  it  must  be  as  you  like.  We  will  see  what 
the  three  days  will  do  for  you." 

Where  and  how  this  holiday  was  to  be  spent  only  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Boniface  knew,  and  Cecil  and  Roy  were  as  much 
astonished  as  any  one  when,  at  two  o'clock  on  Saturday 
afternoon,  a  coach  and  four  stopped  at  the  gate  of  Rowan 
Tree  House. 

"What!  are  we  to  drive  there?  "asked  Cecil.  "Oh, 
father,  how  delightful !  Will  it  be  very  far  ? " 

"Yes,  a  long  drive  ;  so  keep  out  plenty  of  wraps,  in 
case  the  evening  is  chilly.  We  can  tuck  away  the 
children  inside  if  they  get  tired.  Now,  are  we  all  ready  ? 
Then  we  will  drive  to  the  model  lodgings." 

So  off  they  started,  a  very  merry  party,  but  still  merrier 


228  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

when  the  three  Norwegians  had  joined  them,  the  girls, 
as  usual,  dressed  in  black,  for  economy's  sake,  but  wear- 
ing very  dainty  little  white  sailor's  hats,  which  Sigrid  had 
sat  up  on  the  previous  night  to  trim.  She  enjoyed  her 
new  hat  amazingly  ;  she  enjoyed  locking  up  the  lodgings 
and  handing  the  key  to  the  caretaker  ;  she  enjoyed  the  de- 
licious prospect  of  three  days'  immunity  from  cooking  and 
cleaning,  and  anxious  planning  of  food  and  money  ;  and 
she  enjoyed  Roy's  presence,  with  the  frank,  free  happiness 
of  a  girl  who  is  as  yet  quite  heart-whole. 

"I  feel  like  the  'linendraper  bold,'  in  the  ballad,"  said 
Mr.  Boniface,  with  his  hearty  laugh.  "But  I  have  taken 
precautions  you  see  against  a  similar  catastrophe.  We 
have  had  more  than  the  '  twice  ten  tedious  years  '  together, 
have  we  not,  Loveday  ?  " 

"Yes,"  she  said,  with  her  sweet,  expressive  smile,  "we 
are  just  beginning  the  twenty-seventh,  Robin,  and  have 
had  many  holidays  unlike  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gilpin. " 

They  were  still  like  lovers,  this  husband  and  wife  of 
twenty-six  years'  standing  ;  and  it  was  with  a  sort  of 
consciousness  that  they  would  be  happier  if  left  to  them 
selves,  that  Frithiof,  who  sat  between  Mrs.  Boniface  and 
Cecil,  turned  toward  the  latter,  and  began  to  talk  to 
her. 

Cecil  was  looking  her  very  best  that  day.  The  sun 
lighted  up  her  fair  hair,  the  fresh  wind  brought  a  glow  of 
healthy  color  to  her  cheeks,  her  honest  gray  eyes  had  lost 
the  grave  look  which  they  usually  wore,  and  were  bright 
and  happy  looking  ;  for  she  was  not  at  all  the  sort  of  girl 
who,  because  she  could  not  get  her  own  wish,  refused  to 
enjoy  life.  She  took  all  that  came  to  her  brightly  enough, 
and,  with  a  presentiment  that  such  a  treat  as  this  drive 
with  Frithiof  would  not  often  fall  to  her  lot,  she  gave  her- 
self up  to  present  happiness,  and  put  far  from  her  all  anx- 
ieties and  fears  for  the  future.  From  the  back  seat,  peals 
of  laughter  from  Lance  and  Gvven,  and  Swanhild,  reached 
them.  In  front,  by  the  side  of  the  driver,  they  could  see 
Roy  and  Sigrid  absorbed  in  their  own  talk  ;  and  with  such 
surroundings,  it  would  have  been  hard  indeed  if  these  two, 
the  Norwegian,  with  his  sad  story,  and  Cecil  with  her  life 
overshadowed  by  his  trouble,  had  not  been  able  for  a  time 
to  throw  off  everything  that  weighed  them  down,  and  en- 
joy themselves  like  the  rest. 

"This  i»  a  thousand  times  better  than  a  carriole  or  a 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  229 

stolkjaerre,"  said  Frithiof.  "  What  a  splendid  pace  \vc  are 
going-  at,  and  how  well  you  see  the  country  !  It  is  the 
perfection  of  traveling1." 

"So  I  think/'  said  Cecil.  "At  any  rate,  on  such  a  day 
as  this.  In  rain,  or  snow,  or  burning-  heat,  it  might  be 
rather  trying.  And  then,  of  course,  in  the  old  days  we 
should  not  have  had  it  all  snugly  to  ourselves  like  this ; 
which  makes  such  a  difference." 

He  thought  over  those  last  words  fora  minute,  and  re- 
flected how  among  "ourselves,"  Cecil  included  the  little 
children  of  a  criminal,  and  the  foreigners  who  had  scarcely 
been  known  to  them  for  two  years.  Her  warm,  generous 
heart  had  for  him  a  very  genuine  attraction.  Possibly,  if 
it  had  not  been  for  that  chance  meeting  with  Blanche, 
which  had  caused  an  old  wound  to  break  out  anew,  some 
thought  of  love  might  have  stirred  in  his  breast.  As  it 
was,  he  was  merely  grateful  to  her  for  chasing  away  the 
gloom  that  for  the  last  few  days  had  hung  about  him  like 
a  fog.  She  was  to  him  a  cheering  ray  of  sunshine  ;  a 
healthy  breeze  that  dispersed  the  mist ;  a  friend — but 
nothing  more. 

On  they  drove,  free  of  houses  at  last,  or  passing  only 
isolated  farms,  little  villages,  and  sleepy  country  towns. 
The  trees  were  in  all  the  exquisite  beauty  of  early  June, 
and  the  Norwegians,  accustomed  to  less  varied  foliage, 
were  enthusiastic  in  their  admiration.  They  had  never 
known  before  what  it  was  to  drive  along  a  road  bordered 
by  picturesque  hedges,  with  stately  elms  here  and  there, 
and  with  oaks  and  beeches,  sycamores  and  birches,  pop- 
lars and  chestnuts  scattered  in  such  lavish  profusion 
throughout  the  landscape. 

"  If  we  can  beat  you  in  mountains,  you  can  certainly 
beat  us  in  trees  1 "  cried  Sigrid,  her  blue  eyes  bright  with 
happiness. 

She  was  enjoying  it  all  as  only  those  who  have  been 
toiling  in  a  great  town  can  enjoy  the  sights  and  sounds 
of  the  country.  The  most  humdrum  things  had  an  at- 
traction for  her,  and  when  they  stopped  by-and-by  for 
tea,  at  a  little  road-side  inn,  she  almost  wished  their 
drive  at  an  end,  such  a  longing  came  over  her  to  run  out 
into  the  fields  and  just  gather  flowers  to  her  heart's  con- 
tent. 

At  last,  after  a  great  deal  of  tea  and  bread  and  butter 
had  been  consumed,  they  mounted  the  coach  again, 


230  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

leaving  a  sort  of  reflection  of  their  happiness  in  the  hearts 
of  the  people  of  the  inn. 

"There's  merry-makers  and  merry-makers,"  remarked 
the  landlord,  glancing  after  them  ;  "  yon's  the  right  sort, 
and  no  mistake." 

And  now  Mr.  Boniface  began  to  enjoy  to  the  full  his 
surprise.  How  he  laughed  when  they  implored  him  to 
say  where  they  were  going  !  How  triumphant  he  was 
when  the  driver,  who  was  as  deaf  as  a  post,  utterly  de- 
clined to  answer  leading  questions  put  to  him  by  Roy  ! 

"I  believe  we  are  going  to  Helmstone,  or  some  great 
watering-place,  where  we  shall  have  to  be  proper  and 
wear  gloves,"  said  Cecil. 

This  was  received  with  groans. 

"  But  to  get  a  sight  of  the  sea  one  would  put  up  with 
glove-wearing,"  said  Sigrid.  "And  we  could,  at  any 
rate,  walk  out  into  the  country,  I  suppose,  for  flowers." 

Mr.  Boniface  only  smiled,  however,  and  looked  inscru- 
table. And  rinding  that  they  could  not  guess  their  des- 
tination in  the  least,  they  took  to  singing  rounds,  which 
made  the  time  pass  by  very  quickly.  At  length  Frithiof 
started  to  his  feet  with  an  eager  exclamation. 

"The  sea  !  "  he  cried. 

And  sure  enough,  there,  in  the  distance,  was  the  first 
glimpse  of  a  long  blue  line,  which  made  the  hearts  of  the 
Norwegians  throb  with  eager  delight. 

"  It  seems  like  being  at  home  again,"  said  Swanhild, 
while  Frithiof  seemed  to  drink  in  new  life  as  the  fresh, 
salt  wind  blew  once  more  upon  him,  bringing  back  to  his 
mind  the  memory  of  many  a  perilous  adventure  in  hia 
free,  careless  boyhood. 

"  A  big  watering-place,"  groaned  Roy.  "I  told  you  so. 
Houses, churches,  a  parade,  and  a  pier ;  I  can  see  them  all." 

"  Where  ?  where  ?  "  cried  every  one,  while  Mr.  Boniface 
laughed  quietly  and  rubbed  his  hands. 

"Over  there,  to  the  left,"  said  Roy. 

"You  prophet  of  evil !  "  cried  Cecil,  merrily  ;  "  we  are 
turning  quite  away  to  the  right." 

And  on  they  went  between  the  green  downs,  till  they 
came  to  a  tiny  village,  far  removed  from  railways,  and 
leaving  even  that  behind  them,  paused  at  length  before  a 
solitary  farmhouse,  standing  a  little  back  from  the  road, 
with  downs  on  either  side  of  it,  and  barely  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  from  the  sea. 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  231 

"How  did  you  hear  of  this  delightful  place,  father?" 
cried  Cecil ;  "  it  is  just  perfect." 

"Well,  I  saw  it  when  you  and  Roy  were  in  Norway, 
two  summers  ago,"  said  Mr.  Boniface.  "Mother  and  I 
drove  out  here  from  Southbourne,  and  took  such  a  fancy 
to  this  farm  that,  l«.ke  Captain  Cuttle,  we  made  a  note  of 
it,  and  kept  it  for  a  surprise  party. '' 

Mr.  Horner,  in  his  suburban  villa,  was  at  that  very 
moment  lamenting  his  cousin's  absurd  extravagance. 

"He  was  always  wanting  in  common  sense,  poor 
fellow,  "observed  Mrs.  Horner.  "  But  to  hire  a  coach-and- 
four  just  to  take  into  the  country  his  own  family  and  that 
criminal's  children,  and  those  precious  Norwegians,  who 
apparently  think  themselves  on  a  level  with  the  highest 
in  the  land — that  beats  everything  !  I  suppose  he'll  be 
wanting  to  hire  a  palace  for  them  next  bank  holiday  !  " 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  farmhouse  accommodation  was 
rather  limited,  but  no  one  cared  about  that.  Though  the 
rooms  were  small  they  had  a  most  delicious  smell  of  the 
country  about  them,  and  every  one,  moreover,  was  in  a 
humor  to  be  as  much  out  of  doors  as  possible. 

The  time  seemed  to  all  of  them  a  little  like  that 
summer  holiday  at  Balholm  in  its  freedom  and  brightness 
and  good-fellowship.  The  delightful  rambles  over  the 
breezy  downs,  the  visit  to  the  lighthouse,  the  friendly 
chats  with  the  coast-guardsmen,  the  boating  excursions, 
and  the  quiet  country  Sunday — all  remained  in  their  mem- 
ories for  long  after. 

To  Roy  those  days  were  idyllic ;  and  Sigrid,  too,  began 
to  understand  for  the  first  time  that  he  was  something 
more  to  her  than  Frithiofs  friend.  The  two  were  much 
together,  and  on  the  Monday  afternoon,  when  the  rest 
of  the  party  had  gone  off  again  to  the  lighthouse  for 
Lance's  special  benefit,  they  wandered  away  along  the 
shore,  nominally  searching  among  the  rocks  for  anemones, 
but  far  too  much  absorbed  in  each  other  to  prove  good 
collectors. 

It  took  a  long  time  really  to  know  Roy,  for  he  was 
silent  and  reserved  ;  but  by  this  time  Sigrid  had  begun  to 
realize  how  much  there  was  in  him  that  was  well  worth 
knowing,  and  her  bright,  easy  manner  had  always  been 
able  to  thaw  his  taciturn  moods.  He  had,  she  perceived, 
his  father's  large-mindedness ;  he  studied  the  various 
problems  of  the  day  in  the  same  spirit ;  to  money  he  was 


23 «  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN: 

comparatively  indifferent ;  and  he  was  wholly  without 
that  spirit  of  calculation,  that  sordid  ambition  which  is 
very  unjustly  supposed  to  animate  most  of  those  engaged 
in  retail  trade.  Sigrid  had  liked  him  ever  since  their  first 
meeting  in  Norway,  but  only  within  the  last  two  days 
had  any  thought  of  love  occurred  to  her.  Even  now  that 
thought  was  scarcely  formed ;  she  was  only  conscious  of 
being  unusually  happy,  and  of  feeling  a  sort  of  additional 
happiness,  and  a  funny  sense  of  relief  when  the  rest  of 
the  party  climbed  the  hill  to  the  lighthouse,  leaving  her 
alone  with  Roy.  Of  what  they  talked  she  scarcely  knew, 
but  as  they  wandered  on  over  low  rocks  and  pools 
and  shingle,  hand  in  hand,  because  the  way  was  slippery 
and  treacherous,  it  seemed  to  her  that  she  was  walking 
in  some  new  paradise.  The  fresh  air  and  beauty  after 
the  smoke  and  wilderness  of  streets  ;  the  sense  of  protec- 
tion, after  the  anxieties  of  being  manager-in-chief  to  a 
very  poor  household ;  above  all,  the  joyous  brightness 
after  a  sad  past,  made  her  heart  dance  within  her ;  and  in 
her  happiness  she  looked  so  lovely  that  all  thoughts  of 
obstacles  and  difficulties  left  Roy's  mind. 

They  sat  down  to  rest  in  a  little  sheltered  nook  under  the 
high  chalk  cliffs,  and  it  was  there  that  he  poured  out  to 
her  the  confession  of  his  love,  being  so  completely  car- 
ried away  that  for  once  words  came  readily  to  his  lips, 
so  that  Sigrid  was  almost  frightened  by  his  eagerness. 
How  different  was  this  from  Torvald  Lungren's  proposal ! 
How  utterly  changed  was  her  whole  life  since  that 
wintry  day  when  she  had  walked  back  from  the  Bergen 
cemetery  ! 

What  was  it  that  had  made  everything  so  bright  to  her 
since  then  ?  Was  it  not  the  goodness  of  the  man  beside 
her — the  man  who  had  saved  her  brother's  life — who  had 
brought  them  together  once  more — who  now  loved  her 
and  asked  for  her  love  ? 

When  at  last  he  paused,  waiting  for  her  reply,  she  was 
for  a  minute  or  two  quite  silent ;  still  her  face  reassured 
Roy,  and  he  was  not  without  hope,  so  that  the  waiting- 
time  was  not  intolerable  to  him. 

"If  it  were  only  myself  to  be  thought  about,"  she  said 
at  length,  "I  might  perhaps  give  you  an  answer  more 
readily.  But,  you  see,  there  are  other  people  to  be  con- 
sidered. " 

The  admission  she  had  made  sent  a  throb  of  delight 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  233 

to  Roy's  heart.     Once  sure  of  her  love  he  dreaded  no  ob- 
stacles. 

"You  are  thinking  of  Frithiof, "  he  said.  "And  of 
course  I  would  never  ask  you  to  leave  him  ;  but  there 
would  be  no  need.  If  you  could  love  me — if  you  will 
be  my  wife — you  would  be  much  freer  than  you  now,  are 
to  help  him." 

The  thought  of  his  wealth  suddenly  flashed  into  Sigrid's 
mind,  giving  her  a  momentary  pang ;  yet,  since  she 
really  loved  him,  it  was  impossible  that  this  should  be  a 
lasting  barrier  between  them.  She  looked  out  over  the 
sea,  and  the  thought  of  her  old  home,  and  of  the  debts, 
and  the  slow  struggle  to  pay  them,  came  to  her ;  yet  all 
the  time  she  knew  that  these  could  not  separate  her  from 
Roy.  She  loved  him,  and  the  world's  praise  or  blame 
were  just  nothing  to  her.  She  could  not  care  in  the  least 
about  the  way  in  which  such  a  marriage  would  be  re- 
garded by  outsiders.  She  loved  him  ;  and  when  once  sure 
that  her  marriage  would  be  right — that  it  would  not  be 
selfish,  or  in  any  way  bad  in  its  effects  on  either  Frithiof 
or  Swanhild — it  was  impossible  that  she  should  hesitate 
any  longer. 

But  of  this  she  was  not  yet  quite  sure.  All  had  come 
upon  her  so  suddenly  that  she  felt  as  if  she  must 
have  time  to  think  it  out  quietly  before  making  a  definite 
promise. 

"  Give  me  a  fortnight,"  she  said,  "and  then  I  will  let 
you  have  my  answer.  It  would  not  be  fair  to  either  of 
us  if  I  spoke  hastily  when  so  much  is  at  stake." 

Roy  could  not  complain  of  this  suggestion  ;  it  was  much 
that  he  was  able  at  last  to  plead  his  own  cause  with 
Sigrid,  and  in  her  frank,  blue  eyes  there  lurked  something 
which  told  him  that  he  need  fear  no  more. 

Meanwhile  time  sped  on,  and,  unheeded  by  these  two, 
the  tide  was  coming  in.  They  were  so  absorbed  in  their 
own  affairs  that  it  was  not  until  a  wave  swept  right  into 
the  little  bay,  leaving  a  foam-wreath  almost  at  their  feet, 
that  they  realized  their  danger.  With  a  quick  exclama- 
tion Roy  started  up. 

"What  have  I  been  thinking  of?"  he  cried  in  dismay. 
"  Why,  we  are  cut  off !  " 

Sigrid  sprang  forward  and  glanced  toward  Britling  Gap. 
It  was  too  true.  Return  was  absolutely  impossible. 

"We  could  never  swim  such  a  distance,"  she  said. 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

And  turning,  she  glanced  toward  the  steep  white  cliff 
above. 

"And  that  too  is  utterly  impossible,"  said  Roy.  "  Our 
only  hope  is  in  some  pleasure-boat  passing.  Stay,  I  have 
an  idea." 

Hastily  opening  his  knife  he  began  to  scoop  out  foot- 
holds in  the  chalk.  He  saw  that  their  sole  chance  lay  in 
making  a  standing-place  out  of  reach  of  the  water,  and  he 
worked  with  all  his  might,  first  securing  a  place  for  the 
feet,  then,  higher  up,  scooping  holes  for  the  hands  to  cling 
to ;  he  spoke  little,  his  mind  was  too  full  of  a  torturing 
sense  of  blame,  a  bitter  indignation  with  himself  for  allow- 
ing his  very  love  to  blind  him  to  such  a  danger. 

As  for  Sigrid,  she  picked  up  a  pointed  stoue  and  began 
to  work  too  with  a  desperate  energy.  She  was  naturally 
brave,  and  as  long  as  she  could  do  anything  her  heart 
scarcely  beat  faster  than  usual.  It  was  the  waiting-time 
that  tried  her,  the  clinging  to  that  uncompromising  white 
cliff,  while  below  the  waves  surged  to  and  fro  with  the 
noise  that  only  that  morning  she  had  thought  musical, 
but  which  now  seemed  to  her  almost  intolerable.  If  it 
had  not  been  that  Roy's  arm  was  round  her,  holding  her 
closely,  she  could  never  have  borne  up  so  long,  she  would 
have  turned  giddy  and  fallen  back  into  the  water.  But 
his  strength  seemed  to  her  equal  to  anything,  and  her 
perfect  confidence  in  him  filled  her  with  a  wonderful 
energy  of  endurance. 

In  their  terrible  position  all  sense  of  time  left  them,  they 
could  not  tell  whether  it  was  for  minutes  or  for  hours  that 
they  had  clung  to  their  frail  refuge,  when  at  length  a  shout 
from  above  reached  their  ears. 

"Courage  !  "  cried  a  voice.  "A  boat  is  coming  to  your 
help.  Hold  on  !  " 

Hope  renewed  their  strength  in  a  wonderful  way,  they 
were  indeed  less  to  be  pitied  than  those  who  had  the  fear- 
ful anxiety  of  rescuing  them,  or  watching  the  rescue. 

It  was  Frithiof  who  had  first  discovered  them  ;  the  rest 
Of  the  party,  after  seeing  over  the  lighthouse,  had  wan- 
dered along  the  cliffs  talking  to  an  old  sailor,  and  Lance 
being  seized  with  a  desire  to  see  over  the  edge,  Frithiof 
had  set  Cecil's  mind  at  rest  by  lying  down  with  the  little 
fellow  and  holding  him  securely  while  he  glanced  down 
the  sheer  descent  to  the  sea.  A  little  farther  on,  to  the 
left,  he  suddenly  perceived  to  his  horror  the  two  clinging 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  235 

figures,  and  at  once  recognized  them.  Dragging  the  child 
back,  he  sprang  up  and  seized  the  old  sailor's  arm,  inter- 
rupting a  long-winded  story  to  which  Mr.  Boniface  was 
listening. 

"There  are  two  people  down  there,  cut  off  by  the  tide," 
he  said.  "What  is  the  quickest  way  to  reach  them  ? " 

"Good  Lord!"  cried  the  old  man;  why,  there'll  be 
naught  quicker  than  a  boat  at  Britling  Gap,  or  ropes 
brought  from  there  and  let  down," 

"  Tell  them  help  is  coming,"  said Frithiof.  "I  will  row 
round. " 

And  without  another  word  he  set  off  running  like  the 
wind  toward  the  coast-guard  station.  On  and  on  he 
rushed  over  the  green  downs,  past  the  little  white  chalk 
heaps  that  marked  the  coast-guard's  nightly  walk,  past 
the  lighthouse  and  down  the  hill  to  the  little  sheltered  cove. 
Though  a  good  runner,  he  was  sadly  out  of  training,  his 
breath  came  now  in  gasps,  his  throat  felt  as  though  it 
were  on  fire,  and  all  the  time  a  terrible  dread  rilled  his 
heart.  Supposing  he  were  too  late  ! 

At  Britling  Gap  not  a  soul  was  in  sight,  and  he  dared 
not  waste  time  in  seeking  help.  The  boat  was  in  its 
usual  place  on  the  beach.  He  shoved  it  out  to  sea,  sprang 
into  it,  paused  only  to  fling  off  his  coat,  then  with  desper- 
ate energy  pulled  toward  the  place  where  Roy  and  Sigrid 
awaited  their  rescuer  with  fast -failing  strength. 

And  yet  in  all  Frithiof's  anxiety  there  came  to  him  a 
strange  sense  of  satisfaction,  an  excitement  which  ban- 
ished from  his  mind  all  the  specters  of  the  past,  a  con- 
sciousness of  power  that  in  itself  was  invigorating.  Dan- 
ger seemed  to  be  his  native  element,  daring  his  strongest 
characteristic,  and  while  straining  every  nerve  and  making 
the  little  boat  bound  through  the  water,  he  was  more  at 
rest  than  he  had  been  for  months,  just  because  everything 
personal  had  faded  into  entire  insignificance  before  the 
absorbing  need  of  those  whom  he  loved. 

How  his  pulses  throbbed  when  at  length  he  caught 
sight  of  Sigrid's  figure  !  and  with  what  skill  he  guided  his 
boat  toward  the  cliff,  shouting  out  encouragement  and 
warning  !  The  two  were  both  so  stiff  and  exhausted  that 
it  was  no  easy  task  to  get  them  down  into  the  boat,  but  he 
managed  it  somehow,  and  a  glad  cheer  from  above  showed 
that  the  watchers  were  following  their  every  movement 
with  eager  sympathy. 


236  A  tfARDY  NORSEMAN: 

"Let  us  walk  back  quickly,"  said  Mr.  Boniface,  "that 
we  may  be  ready  to  meet  them,"  and  with  an  intensity 
of  relief  they  hurried  back  to  Britling  Gap,  arriving  just  in 
time  to  greet  the  three  as  they  walked  up  the  beach. 
Sigrid,  though  rather  pale  and  exhausted,  seemed  little  the 
worse  for  the  adventure,  and  a  glad  color  flooded  her  cheeks 
when  Mr.  Boniface  turned  to  Frithiof,  and  grasping  his 
hand,  thanked  him  warmly  for  what  he  had  done.  Cecil 
said  scarcely  anything,  she  could  hardly  trust  herself  to 
speak,  but  her  heart  beat  fast  as,  glancing  at  Frithiof,  she 
saw  on  his  face  the  bright  look  which  made  him  once 
more  like  the  Frithiof  she  had  met  long  ago  at  Bergen. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

MR.  BONIFACE  insisted  on  keeping  them  all  till  the  fol- 
lowing day,  when  once  more  they  enjoyed  the  delights  of 
coaching,  getting  back  to  London  in  the  cool  of  the  even- 
ing, laden  with  wild  roses,  hawthorn,  and  field  flowers, 
which  gladdened  more  than  one  of  their  neighbor's  rooms 
in  the  model  lodgings. 

It  was  not  till  Wednesday  in  Whitsun  week  that  Frithiof 
found  himself  in  his  old  place  behind  the  counter,  and  it 
took  several  days  before  they  all  got  into  working  order 
again,  for  though  the  holiday  had  done  them  good,  yet  it 
was  not  very  easy  to  get  back  into  the  routine  of  business. 
But  by  Monday  everything  was  in  clockwork  order  again, 
and  even  Mr.  Horner,  though  ready  enough  at  all  times 
to  grumble,  could  find  nothing  to  make  a  fuss  about.  It 
happened  that  day  that  Mr.  Horner  was  more  in  the  shop 
than  usual,  for  Roy  had  unexpectedly  been  obliged  to  go 
to  Paris  on  business,  and  it  chanced,  much  to  his  satis- 
faction, that,  while  Mr.  Boniface  was  dining,  Sardoni  the 
tenor  called  to  speak  about  a  song.  There  was  nothing 
that  he  enjoyed  so  much  as  interviewing  any  well-known 
singer ;  he  seemed  to  gain  a  sort  of  reflected  glory  in  the 
process,  and  Frithiof  could  hardly  help  smiling  when  at 
the  close  of  the  interview  they  passed  through  the  shop, 
so  comical  was  the  obsequious  manner  of  the  little  man 
toward  the  tall,  jolly-looking  singer,  and  so  curious  the 
contrast  between  the  excessive  politeness  of  his  tone  to 
the  visitor,  and  his  curt  command,  "  Open  the  door,  Falck." 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  237 

Frithiof  opened  the  door  promptly,  but  the  tenor,  whose 
mischievous  eyes  evidently  took  in  everything  that  sav- 
ored of  fun,  saw  plainly  enough  that  the  Norseman,  with 
his  dignity  of  manner  and  nobility  of  bearing,  deemed 
Mr.  Horner  as  a  man  beneath  contempt. 

"Oh,  by  the  way,  Mr.  Horner,"  he  exclaimed,  suddenly 
turning  back  just  as  he  had  left  the  shop;  "I  quite  for- 
got to  ask  if  you  could  oblige  me  with  change  for  a  five- 
pound  note.  I  have  tried  to  get  it  twice  this  morning, 
but  change  seems  to  be  short." 

"  With  the  greatest  pleasure,"  said  Mr.  Horner,  deferen- 
tially. 

And,  pushing  past  Frithiof,  he  himself  deposited  the 
note  in  the  till  and  counted  out  five  sovereigns,  which  he 
handed  with  a  bow  to  Sardoni. 

Then  with  a  friendly  "good-day,"  the  singer  went  out, 
and  Mr.  Horner,  rubbing  his  hands  with  an  air  of  great 
satisfaction,  retired  to  Mr.  Boniface's  room. 

The  afternoon  passed  on  just  as  hundreds  of  afternoons 
had  passed  before  it,  with  the  usual  succession  of  custom- 
ers, the  usual  round  of  monotonous  work ;  there  was 
nothing  to  mark  it  in  any  way,  and  no  sense  of  coming 
evil  made  itself  felt.  In  the  most  prosaic  manner  possi- 
ble, Frithiof  went  out  for  the  few  minutes'  stroll  in  the 
streets,  which  he  called  tea-time.  He  was  in  good  spirits, 
and  as  he  walked  along  he  thought  of  the  days  by  the  sea, 
and  of  the  boating  which  he  had  so  much  enjoyed,  living 
it  all  over  again  in  this  hot,  dusty  London,  where  June 
was  far  from  delightful.  Still,  it  was  something  to  be  out 
in  the  open  air,  to  get  a  few  moments  of  leisure  and  to 
stretch  one's  legs.  He  walked  along  pretty  briskly,  man- 
aging to  get  some  little  enjoyment  out  of  his  short  respite, 
and  this  was  well ;  for  it  was  long  before  he  could  enjoy 
anything  again  in  that  unconcerned,  free-hearted  way. 
Yet  nothing  warned  him  of  this ;  quite  carelessly  he 
pushed  open  the  double  swing-doors  and  re-entered  the 
shop,  glancing  with  surprise  but  with  no  special  concern 
at  the  little  group  behind  the  counter.  Mr.  Horner  was 
finding  fault  about  something,  but  that  was  a  very  ordi- 
nary occurrence.  A  thin,  grave-looking  man  stood  listen- 
ing attentively,  and  Mr.  Boniface  listened  too  with  an  ex- 
pression of  great  trouble  on  his  face.  Looking  up,  he 
perceived  Frithiof,  and  with  an  exclamation  of  relief  came 
toward  him. 


238  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

"  Here  is  Mr.  Falck  !  "  he  said  ;  "  who  no  doubt  will  be 
able  to  explain  everything  satisfactorily.  A  five-pound 
note  has  somehow  disappeared  from  your  till  this  after- 
noon, Frithiof,  do  you  know  anything  about  it !  " 

"It  was  certainly  in  the  till  when  I  last  opened  it," 
said  Frithiof,  "  and  that  was  only  a  few  minutes  before  I 
went  out." 

"  Very  possibly,"  said  Mr.  Horner.  "The  question  is 
whether  it  was  there  when  you  shut  it  again." 

The  tone  even  more  than  the  words  made  Frithiofs 
blood  boil. 

"Sir,"  he  said  furiously,  "do  you  dare  to  insinuate 
that  I " 

But  Mr.  Boniface  laid  a  hand  on  his  arm,  and  inter- 
rupted him. 

" Frithiof,"  he  said,  "you  know  quite  well  that  I  should 
as  soon  suspect  my  own  son  as  you.  But  this  note  has 
disappeared  in  a  very  extraordinary  way,  while  only  you 
and  Darnell  were  in  the  shop,  and  we  must  do  our  best 
to  trace  it  out.  I  am  sure  you  will  help  me  in  this  dis- 
agreeable business  by  going  through  the  ordinary  form 
quietly." 

Then  turning  to  the  private  detective  who  had  been 
hastily  called  in  by  Mr.  Horner,  he  suggested  that  they 
should  come  to  his  own  room.  Mr.  Horner  shut  the  door 
with  an  air  of  satisfaction.  From  the  first  he  had  detested 
the  Norwegian,  and  now  was  delighted  to  feel  that  his 
dislike  was  justified.  Mr.  Boniface,  looking  utterly  mis- 
erable, sat  down  in  his  arm-chair  to  await  the  result  of 
the  inquiry,  and  the  two  men  who  lay  under  suspicion 
stood  before  the  detective,  who,  with  his  practiced  eye 
glanced  now  at  one,  now  at  the  other,  willing  if  possible 
to  spare  the  innocent  man  the  indignity  of  being  searched. 

Darnell  was  a  rather  handsome  fellow,  with  a  short 
dark  beard  and  heavy  mustache  :  he  looked  a  trifle  paler 
than  usual,  but  was  quite  quiet  and  collected,  perhaps  a 
little  upset  at  the  unusual  disturbance  in  the  shop  where 
for  so  long  he  had  worked,  yet  without  the  faintest  sign 
of  personal  uneasiness  about  him.  Beside  him  stood  the 
tall  Norwegian,  his  fair  skin  showing  all  too  plainly  the 
burning  color  that  had  rushed  to  his  face  the  instant  he 
knew  that  he  lay  actually  under  suspicion  of  thieving. 
Mr.  Horner's  words  still  made  him  tingle  from  head  to 
foot,  and  he  could  gladly  have  taken  the  man  by  the 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  239 

throat  and  shaken  the  breath  out  of  him.  For  the  suspi- 
cion, hard  enough  for  any  man  to  bear,  was  doubly  hard 
to  him  on  account  of  his  nationality.  That  a  Norwegian 
should  be  otherwise  than  strictly  honorable  was  to  Frithiof 
a  monstrous  idea.  He  knew  well  that  he  and  his  coun- 
trymen in  general  had  plenty  of  faults,  but  scrupulous 
honesty  was  so  ingrained  in  his  Norse  nature,  that  to 
have  the  slightest  doubt  cast  upon  his  honor  was  to  him 
an  intolerable  insult.  The  detective  could  not,  of  course, 
understand  this.  He  was  a  clever  and  a  conscientious 
man,  but  his  experience  was,  after  all,  limited.  He  had 
not  traveled  in  Norway,  or  studied  the  character  of  its 
people ;  he  did  not  know  that  you  may  leave  all  your 
luggage  outside  an  inn  in  the  public  highway  without  the 
least  fear  that  in  the  night  any  one  will  meddle  with  it  ; 
he  did  not  know  that  if  you  give  a  Norse  child  a  coin 
equal  to  sixpence  in  return  for  a  great  bowl  of  milk,  it  will 
refuse  with  real  distress  to  keep  it,  because  the  milk  was 
worth  a  little  less  ;  he  had  not  heard  the  story  of  the  lost 
chest  of  plate,  which  by  good  chance  was  washed  up  on 
the  Norwegian  coast,  'how  the  experts  examined  the  crest 
on  the  spoons,  and  after  infinite  labor  and  pains  succeeded 
in  restoring  it  to  its  rightful  owner  in  a  far-away  southern 
island.  It  was,  after  all,  quite  natural  that  he  should  sus- 
pect the  man  who  had  colored  so  deeply,  who  protested 
so  indignantly  against  the  mere  suspicion  of  guilt,  who 
clearly  shrank  from  the  idea  of  being  searched. 

"I  will  examine  you  first,"  said  the  detective;  and 
Frithiof,  seeing  that  there  was  no  help  for  it,  submitted 
with  haughty  composure  to  the  indignity.  For  an  instant 
even  Mr.  Horner  was  shaken  in  his  opinion,  there  was 
such  an  evident  consciousness  of  innocence  in  the  Nor- 
wegian's whole  manner  and  bearing  now  that  the  ordeal 
had  actually  come. 

In  solemn  silence  two  pockets  were  turned  inside  out. 
The  right-hand  waist-coat  pocket  was  apparently  empty, 
but  the  careful  detective  turned  that  inside  out  too.  Sud- 
denly Mr.  Boniface  started  forward  with  an  ejaculation 
of  astonishment. 

"I  told  you  so,"  cried  Mr.  Horner  vehemently. 

And  Frithiof,  roused  to  take  notice,  which  before  he 
had  not  condescended  to  do,  looked  down  and  saw  a 
sight  that  made  his  heart  stand  still. 

Carefully  pinned  to  the  inside  of  the  pocicetwas  a  clean, 


240  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

fresh,  five-pound  note.  He  did  not  speak  a  word,  but 
just  stared  at  the  thing  in  blank  amazement.  There  was 
a  painful  silence.  Surely  it  could  be  nothing  but  a  bad 
dream  ! 

He  looked  at  the  unconcerned  detective,  and  at  Mr. 
Horner's  excited  face,  and  at  Mr.  Boniface's  expression 
of  grief  and  perplexity.  It  was  no  dream  ;  it  was  a  most 
horrible  reality — a  reality  which  he  was  utterly  incapable 
of  explaining.  With  an  instinct  that  there  was  yet  one 
man  present  who  trusted  him  in  spite  of  appearances,  he 
made  a  step  or  two  toward  Mr.  Boniface. 

"Sir,"  he  said  in  great  agitation,  "  I  swear  to  you  that 
I  knew  nothing  of  this.  It  has  astounded  me  as  much 
at  it  has  surprised  you.  How  it  came  there  I  can't  say, 
but  certainly  I  didn't  put  it  there." 

Mr.  Boniface  was  silent,  and  glancing  back  Frithiof 
saw  on  the  thin  lips  of  the  detective  a  very  expressive 
smile.  The  sight  almost  maddened  him.  In  the  shock 
of  the  discovery  he  had  turned  very  pale,  now  the  vio- 
lence of  his  wrath  made  him  flush  to  the  roots  of  his  hair. 

"  If  you  didn't  put  it  there,  who  did  ?  "  said  Mr.  Horner 
indignantly.  "Don't  add  to  your  sin,  young  man,  by 
falsehood." 

"I  have  never  spoken  a  falsehood  in  my  life  ;  it  is  you 
who  lie  when  you  say  that  I  put  the  note  there,"  said 
Frithiof  hotly. 

"My  poor  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Boniface,  "I  am  heartily 
sorry  for  you,,  but  you  must  own  that  appearances  are 
against  you." 

"What!  you,  too,  sir!"  cried  Frithiof,  his  indignation 
giving  place  to  heart-broken  wonder. 

The  tone  went  to  Mr  Boniface's  heart. 

"  I  think  you  did  it  quite  unconsciously,"  he  said.  "I 
am  sure  you  never  could  have  taken  it  had  you  known 
what  you  were  about.  You  did  it  in  absence  of  mind — 
in  a  fit  of  temporary  aberration.  It  is,  perhaps,  a  mere 
result  of  your  illness  last  summer,  and  no  one  would  hold 
you  responsible  for  it. 

A  horrible  wave  of  doubt  passed  over  Frithiof.  Could 
this  indeed  be  the  explanation  ?  But  it  was  only  for  a 
moment.  He  could  not  really  believe  it ;  he  knew  that 
there  was  no  "truth  in  this  suggestion  of  brain  disturb- 
ance. 

'*'  No  one  in  absence  of  mind  could  deliberately  have 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  241 

pinned  the  note  in,"  he  said.  "Besides  my  head  was 
perfectly  clear,  not  even  aching  or  tired." 

"Quite  so  ;  I  am  glad  that  so  far  you  own  the  truth," 
said  Mr.  Horner.  "  Make  a  free  confession  at  once  and 
we  will  not  press  the  prosecution.  You  yielded  to  a  sud- 
den temptation,  and,  as  we  all  know,  have  special  reasons 
for  needing  money.  Come,  confess  !  " 

"  You  are  not  bound  to  incriminate  yourself,"  said  the 
detective,  who,  as  acting  in  a  private  capacity,  was  not 
bound  to  urge  the  prosecution.  "Still,  what  the  gentle- 
man suggests  is  by  far  the  best  course  for  you  to  take. 
There's  not  a  jury  in  the  land  that  would  not  give  a 
verdict  against  you." 

"  I  shall  certainly  not  tell  a  lie  to  save  open  disgrace," 
said  Frithiof.  "The  jury  may  say  what  it  likes.  God 
knows  I  am  innocent." 

The  tone  in  which  he  said  the  last  words  made  Mr. 
Boniface  look  at  him  more  closely.  Strangely  enough  it 
was  in  that  moment  of  supreme  bitterness,  when  he  fully 
realized  the  hopelessness  of  his  position,  when  one  of  his 
employers  deemed  him  a  madman  and  the  other  a  thief, 
then,  when  disgrace  and  ruin  and  utter  misery  stared  him 
in  the  face,  that  the  faint  glimpses  of  the  Unseen,  which, 
from  time  to  time,  had  dawned  for  him,  broadened  into 
full  sunlight.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  stood  in 
close  personal  relationship  with  the  power  in  whom  he 
had  always  vaguely  believed,  the  higher  Presence  became 
to  him  more  real  than  these  men  surrounding  him  with 
their  pity,  and  indignation,  and  contempt. 

But  Mr.  Horner  was  not  the  sort  of  man  to  read  faces, 
still  less  to  read  hearts  ;  the  very  emphasis  with  which 
Frithiof  had  spoken  made  him  more  angry. 

"  Now  I  know  that  you  are  lying  !  "  he  cried  ;  "don't 
add  blasphemy  to  your  crime.  You  are  the  most  irreligi- 
ous fellow  I  ever  came  across — a  man  who,  to  my  cer- 
tain knowledge,  never  attends  any  place  of  public  worship, 
and  do  you  dare  to  call  God  to  witness  for  you  ?  " 

Nothing  but  the  strong  consciousness  of  this  new  Pres- 
ence kept  Frithiof  from  making  a  sharp  retort.  But  a 
great  calmness  had  come  over  him,  and  his  tone  might 
have  convinced  even  Mr.  Horner  had  he  not  been  so  full 
of  prejudice.  "  God  knows  I  am  innocent,  "he  repeated  ; 
"  and  only  He  can  tell  how  the  note  got  here  ;  I  can't." 

"One  word  with  you,  if  you  please,  Mr.  Harris,"  said 
36 


242  A  HARDY  NORSEMA N. 

Robert  Boniface,  suddenly  pushing  back  his  chair  and 
rising  to  his  feet,  as  though  he  could  no  longer  tolerate 
the  discussion. 

He  led  the  way  back  to  the  shop,  where,  in  low  tones, 
he  briefly  gave  the  detective  his  own  opinion  of  the  case. 
He  was  sure  that  Frithiof  firmly  believed  that  he  was  tell- 
ing the  truth,  but,  unable  to  doubt  the  evidence  of  his 
own  senses,  he  was  obliged  to  take  up  the  plausible 
theory  of  temporary  aberration.  The  detective  shrugged 
his  shoulders  a  little,  and  said  it  might  possibly  be  so,  but 
the  young  man  seemed  to  him  remarkably  clear-headed. 
However,  he  accepted  his  fee  and  went  off,  and  Mr. 
Boniface  returned  sadly  enough  to  his  room. 

"  You  can  go  back  to  the  shop,  Darnell,"  he  said. 

The  man  bowed  and  withdrew,  leaving  Frithiof  still 
standing  half  bewildered  where  the  detective  had  left  him, 
the  cause  of  all  his  misery  lying  on  the  writing-table 
before  him,  just  as  fresh  and  crisp-looking  as  when  it  had 
been  issued  from  the  Bank  of  England. 

"This  has  been  a  sad  business,  Frithiof,"  said  Mr. 
Boniface,  leaning  his  elbow  on  the  mantelpiece,  and 
looking  with  his  clear,  kindly  eyes  at  the  young  Nor- 
wegian. "But  I  am  convinced  that  you  had  no  idea 
what  you  were  doing,  and  I  should  not  dream  of  prose- 
cuting you,  or  discharging  you. " 

Poor  Frithiof  was  far  too  much  stunned  to  be  able  to 
feel  any  gratitude  for  this.  Mr.  Horner,  however,  left 
him  no  time  to  reply. 

"  I  think  you  have  taken  leave  of  your  senses,  Boni- 
face," he  said  vehemently.  "Save  yourself  the  annoy- 
ance of  prosecuting,  if  you  like  ;  but  it  is  grossly  unfair  to 
the  rest  of  your  employes  to  keep  a  thief  in  your  house. 
Not  only  that,  but  it  is  altogether  immoral ;  it  is  showing 
special  favor  to  vice,  it  is  admitting  a  principle  which,  if 
allowed,  would  ruin  all  business  life.  If  there  is  one 
thing  noticeable  in  all  successful  concerns  it  is  that  un- 
compromising severity  is  shown  to  even  trifling  errors, 
even  to  carelessness." 

"  My  business  has  hitherto  been  successful,"  said  Mr. 
Boniface  quietly,  "  and  I  have  never  gone  on  that  prin- 
ciple, and  never  will.  Why  are  we  to  have  a  law  of  mercy 
and  rigidly  to  exclude  it  from  every-day  life  ?  But  that 
is  the  way  of  the  world.  It  manages,  while  calling  itself 
Christian,  to  shirk  most  of  Christ's  commands," 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 


243 


"  I  tell  you,"  said  Mr.  Horner,  who  was  now  in  a 
towering  passion,  "that  it  is  utterly  against  the  very 
rules  of  religion.  The  fellow  is  not  repentant ;  he  per- 
sists in  sticking  to  a  lie,  and  yet  you  weakly  forgive  him." 

"If,"  said  Mr.  Boniface  quietly,  "you  knew  a  little 
more  of  Frithiof  Falck  you  would  know  that  it  is  quite 
impossible  that  he  could  consciously  have  taken  the 
money.  When  he  took  it  he  was  not  himself.  If  he 
had  wanted  to  hide  it — to  steal  it — why  did  he  actually 
return  to  the  shop  with  it  in  his  possession  ?  He  might 
easily  have  disposed  of  it  while  he  was  out." 

"  If  that  is  your  ground,  then  I  object  to  having  a  man 
on  my  premises  who  is  afflicted  with  kleptomania.  But 
it  is  not  so.  The  fellow  is  as  long-headed  and  quick- 
witted as  any  one  I  know  ;  he  has  managed  to  hoodwink 
you,  but  from  the  first  I  saw  through  him,  and  knew  him 
to  be  a  designing " 

"  Sir,"  broke  in  Frithiof,  turning  to  Mr.  Boniface — his 
bewildered  consternation  changing  now  to  passionate 
earnestness — "this  is  more  than  I  can  endure.  For 
God's  sake  call  back  the  detective,  examine  further  into 
this  mystery  ;  there  must  be  some  explanation  !  " 

"  How  can  any  man  examine  further?"  said  Mr.  Boni- 
face, sadly.  "The  note  is  missed,  and  is  actually  found 
upon  you.  The  only  possible  explanation  is  that  you 
were  not  yourself  when  you  took  it." 

"  Then  the  least  you  can  do  is  to  dismiss  him,"  re- 
sumed Mr.  Horner.  But  Mr.  Boniface  interrupted  him 
very  sharply. 

"  You  will  please  remember,  James,  that  you  are  in  no 
way  concerned  with  the  engagement  or  dismissal  of  those 
employed  in  this  house.  That  is  entirely  my  affair,  as  is 
set  forth  in  our  deed  of  partnership." 

"  Which  partnership  will  need  renewing  in  another  six 
months, ''said  Mr.  Horner,  growing  red  with  anger.  "And 
I  give  you  fair  warning  that,  if  this  dishonest  fellow  is  kept 
on,  I  shall  then  withdraw  my  capital  and  retire  from  the 
business." 

With  this  Parthian  shot  he  went  out,  banging  the  door 
behind  him. 

Frithiof  had  borne  in  silence  all  the  taunts  and  insults 
showered  on  him  ;  but  when  he  found  himself  alone  with 
the  man  to  whom  he  owed  so  much,  he  very  nearly  broke 
down  altogether,  "Sir,"  he  said,  trying  in  vain  to  govern 


244  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

his  voice,  "you  have  been  very  good  to  me  ;  but  it  will 
be  best  that  I  should  go." 

"  I  would  not  have  you  leave  for  the  world,"  said  Mr. 
Boniface.  "Remember  that  your  sisters  are  dependent 
on  you.  You  must  think  first  of  them." 

"No,"  said  Frithiof,  firmly;  "I  must  first  think  of 
what  I  owe  to  you.  It  would  be  intolerable  to  me  to  feel 
that  I  had  really  brought  any  loss  on  you  through  Mr. 
Horner's  anger.  I  must  go." 

"Nonsense,"  said  Mr.  Boniface;  "I  cannot  hear  of 
such  a  thing.  Why,  how  do  you  think  you  would  get 
another  situation  with  this  mystery  still  hanging  over 
you  !  I,  who  know  you  so  well,  am  convinced  of  your 
perfect  freedom  from  blame ;  but  strangers  could  not 
possibly  be  convinced  of  it." 

Frithiof  was  silent  ;  he  thought  of  Sigrid  and  Swanhild 
suffering  through  his  trouble,  he  remembered  his  terrible 
search  for  work  when  he  had  first  come  to  London,  and 
he  realized  that  it  was  chiefly  his  own  pride  that  prompted 
him  never  to  return  to  the  shop.  After  all,  what  a  pros- 
pect it  was  !  With  one  partner  deeming  him  a  thief  and 
the  other  forced  to  say  that  he  must  be  subject  to  a  form 
of  insanity  ;  with  the  men  employed  in  the  shop  all  ready 
to  deem  him  a  dishonest  foreigner  !  How  was  he  to  bear 
such  a  terrible  position  ?  Yet  bear  it  he  must  ;  nay,  he 
must  be  thankful  for  the  chance  of  being  allowed  to  bear 
it. 

"  If  you  are  indeed  willing  that  I  should  stay,"  he  said, 
at  length,  "then  I  will  stay.  But  your  theory — the  theory 
that  makes  you  willing  still  to  trust  me — is  mistaken.  I 
know  that  there  is  not  a  minute  in  this  day  when  my  head 
has  not  been  perfectly  clear." 

"  My  dear  fellow,  you  must  allow  me  to  keep  what 
theory  I  please.  There  is  no  other  explanation  than  this, 
and  you  would  be  wisest  if  you  accepted  it  yourself." 

"  That  is  impossible,"  said  Frithiof,  sadly. 

"  It  is  equally  impossible  that  I  can  doubt  the  evidence 
of  my  own  senses.  The  note  was  there,  and  you  can't 
possibly  explain  its  presence.  How  is  it  possible  that 
Darnell  could  have  crossed  over  to  your  till,  taken  out  the 
note,  and  pinned  it  in  your  pocket  ?  Besides,  what  motive 
could  he  have  for  doing  such  a  thing?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Frithiof;  "yet  I  shall  swear  to 
my  dying  day  that  I  never  did  it  myself," 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  245 

"Well,  there  is  no  use  in  arguing  the  point,"  said 
Robert  Boniface,  wearily.  "It  is  enough  for  me  that  I 
can  account  to  myself  for  what  must  otherwise  be  an  ex- 
traordinary mystery.  You  had  better  go  back  to  your 
work  now,  and  do  not  worry  over  the  affair.  Remember 
that  I  do  not  hold  you  responsible  for  what  has  hap- 
pened." 

After  this  of  course  nothing  more  could  be  said. 
Frithiof  left  the  room  feeling  years  older  than  when  he 
had  entered  it,  and  with  a  heavy  heart  took  that  first 
miserable  plunge  into  the  outer  world — the  world  where 
he  must  now  expect  to  meet  with  suspicious  looks  and 
cold  dislike. 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

As  he  walked  down  the  sort  of  avenue  of  pianos  and 
harmoniums  in  the  inner  shop,  there  came  to  his'  mind, 
why,  he  could  not  have  told,  words  spoken  to  him  long 
before  by  that  customer  who  had  left  on  his  mind  so 
lasting  an  impression,  "Courage!  the  worst  will  pass." 
Though  he  could  not  exactly  believe  the  words,  yet  he 
clung  to  them  with  a  sort  of  desperation.  Also  he  hap- 
pened to  notice  the  clock,  and  practically  adopted  Sydney 
Smith's  wise  maxim,  ' '  Take  short  views. "  There  were  ex- 
actly two  hours  and  a  quarter  before  closing  time,  he  could 
at  any  rate  endure  as  long  as  that,  and  of  the  future  he  would 
not  think.  There  were  no  customers  in  the  shop,  but  he 
could  hear  voices  in  eager  discussion,  and  he  knew  quite 
well  what  was  the  subject  of  their  talk.  Of  course  the  in- 
stant he  came  into  sight  a  dead  silence  ensued,  and  the 
little  group,  consisting  of  Foster,  Darnell,  one  of  the 
tuners,  and  the  boy  who  made  himself  generally  useful, 
dispersed  at  once,  while  in  the  ominous  quiet  Frithiof 
went  to  his  usual  place.  The  first  few  minutes  were  ter- 
rible ;  he  sat  down  at  his  desk,  took  up  his  pen,  and 
opened  the  order-book,  making  a  feint  of  being  actually 
employed,  but  conscious  only  of  the  dreadful  silence  and 
of  the  eyes  that  glanced  curiously  at  him  ;  again  a  burn- 
ing flush  passed  over  his  face,  just  from  the  horror  and 
shame  of  even  being  suspected  of  dishonesty.  It  was  a 
relief  to  him  when  a  customer  entered,  a  man  entirely  ig- 
norant of  all  that  had  passed,  and  only  bent  on  securing 


246  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

the  best  seats  to  be  had  for  Mr.  Boniface's  concert  on  the 
following  day.  Carlo  Donati,  the  celebrated  baritone, 
was  to  sing,  and  as  he  had  only  appeared  once  before 
that  season,  except  in  opera,  there  was  a  great  de- 
mand for  tickets,  which  kept  them  pretty  busy  until  at 
length  the  longed-for  closing  came  ;  the  other  men  lin- 
gered a  little  to  discuss  afresh  the  great  event  of  the  day, 
but  Frithiof,  who  had  been  watching  the  hands  of  the 
clock  with  longing  eyes,  felt  as  if  he  could  not  have  borne 
the  atmosphere  of  the  shop  for  another  minute,  and  snatch- 
ing up  his  hat  made  for  the  door.  None  of  them  said 
good-night  to  him  ;  they  were  not  intentionally  unkind, 
but  they  were  awkward,  and  they  felt  that  the  strange 
affair  of  the  afternoon  had  made  a  great  gulf  between 
them  and  the  culprit.  However,  Frithiof  was  past  caring 
much  for  trifles,  for  after  the  first  moment  of  intense  relief, 
as  he  felt  the  cool  evening  air  blowing  on  him,  the  sense 
of  another  trouble  to  be  met  had  overpowered  all  else. 
He  had  got  somehow  to  tell  Sigrid  of  his  disgrace,  to 
bring  the  cloud  which  shadowed  him  into  the  peaceful 
home  that  had  become  so  dear  to  him.  Very  slowly  he 
walked  through  the  noisy  streets,  very  reluctantly  crossed 
the  great  court-yard,  and  mounted  flight  after  flight  of 
stairs.  At  the  threshold  he  hesitated,  wondering  whether 
it  would  be  possible  to  shield  them  from  the  knowledge. 
He  could  hear  Sigrid  singing  in  the  kitchen  as  she  pre- 
pared the  supper,  and  something  told  him  that  it  would 
be  impossible  to  conceal  his  trouble  from  her.  With  a 
sigh  he  opened  the  door  into  the  sitting-room  ;  it  looked 
very  bright  and  cheerful,  Swanhild  stood  by  the  open 
window  watering  the  flowers  in  the  window-box,  red  and 
white  geraniums  and  southernwood,  grown  from  cuttings 
given  by  Cecil.  She  gave  him  her  usual  merry  greeting. 

"Come  and  look  at  my  garden,  Frithiof,"  she  said. 
"  Doesn't  it  look  lovely  ?  " 

"Why  you  are  late,"  said  Sigrid,  coming  in  with  the 
cocoa,  her  face  a  little  flushed  with  the  fire,  which  was 
trying  on  that  summer-day.  Then,  glancing  at  him, 
"  How  tired  you  look  !  Come,  sit  down  and  eat.  I  have 
got  a  German  sausage  that  even  Herr  Sivertsen  would  not 
grumble  at.  The  heat  has  tired  you,  and  you  will  feel 
better  after  you  have  had  something." 

He  ate  obediently,  though  the  food  almost  choked  him  ; 
3wanhild,  fancying  that  he  had  one  of  his  bad  headaches, 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  247 

grew  quiet,  and  afterward  was  not  surprised  to  find  that 
he  did  not  as  usual  get  out  his  writing  materials,  but 
asked  Sigrid  to  go  out  with  him  for  a  turn. 

"You  are  too  tired  to  try  the  translating? "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  I'll  try  it  later,"  he  said  ;  "but  let  us  have  half 
an  hour's  walk  together  now." 

She  consented  at  once  and  went  to  put  on  her  hat,  well 
knowing  that  Frithiof  never  shirked  his  work  without 
good  reason  ;  then  leaving  strict  orders  with  Swanhild 
not  to  sit  up  after  nine,  they  left  her  absorbed  in  English 
history,  and  went  down  into  the  cool,  clear  twilight. 
Some  children  were  playing  quietly  in  the  court-yard  ; 
Sigrid  stopped  for  a  minute  to  speak  to  one  of  them. 

"  Is  your  father  better  this  evening  !  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  miss,  and  he's  a-goin  '  back  to  work  to-morrow," 
replied  the  child,  lifting  a  beaming  face  up  to  the  friendly 
Norwegian  lady,  who  had  become  a  general  favorite 
among  her  neighbors. 

"  That  is  one  of  the  little  Hallifields, "  explained  Sigrid, 
as  they  passed  on.  ' '  The  father,  you  know,  is  a  tram- 
car  conductor,  and  the  work  is  just  killing  him  by  inches  : 
some  day  you  really  must  have  a  talk  with  him  and  just 
hear  what  terrible  hours  he  has  to  keep.  It  makes  me 
sick  to  think  of  it.  How  I  wish  you  were  in  Parliament, 
Frithiof,  and  could  do  something  to  put  down  all  the 
grievances  that  we  are  forever  coming  across  !  " 

"There  was  once  a  time  when  at  home  we  used  to 
dream  that  I  might  even  be  a  king's  minister,"  said 
Frithiof. 

Something  in  his  voice  made  her  sorry  for  her  last 
speech  ;  she  knew  that  one  of  his  fits  of  depression  had 
seized  him. 

"So  we  did,  and  perhaps  after  all  you  maybe.  It  was 
always,  you  know,  through  something  very  disagreeable 
that  in  the  old  stories  the  highest  wish  was  attained. 
Remember  the  'Wild  Swans.'  And  even  'Cinderella' 
has  that  thought  running  through  it.  We  are  taught  the 
same  thing  from  our  nursery  days  upward.  And,  you 
know,  though  there  are  some  drawbacks,  I  think  living  like 
this,  right  among  the  people,  is  a  splendid  training.  One 
can  understand  their  troubles  so  much  better." 

"  I  should  have  thought  you  had  troubles  enough  of 
your  own,"  he  said,  moodily,  "without  bothering  your- 
self with  other  people's." 


24S  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

"  But  since  our  own  troubles  I  have  somehow  cared 
more  about  them  ;  I  don't  feel  afraid  as  I  used  to  do  of 
sick  people,  and  people  who  have  lost  those  belonging  to 
them.  I  want  always  to  get  nearer  to  them." 

"  Sigrid, "  he  said,  desperately,  "can  you  bear  a  fresh 
trouble  for  yourself?  I  have  bad  news  for  you  to-night." 

Her  heart  seemed  to  stop  beating. 

"  Roy  ? "  she  asked,  breathlessly,  her  mind  instinctively 
turning  first  to  fears  for  his  safety. 

At  any  other  time  Frithiof  would  have  guessed  the  truth 
through  that  tremulous,  unguarded  question,  which  had 
escaped  her  involuntarily.  But  he  was  too  miserable  to 
notice  it  then. 

"Oh,  no,  Roy  is  still  at  Paris.  They  heard  to-day 
that  he  could  not  be  back  in  time  for  the  concert.  It  ft 
I  who  have  brought  this  trouble  on  you.  Though  how 
it  came  about  God  only  knows.  Listen,  and  I'll  tell  you 
exactly  how  everything  happened." 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  one  of  the  parks,  and 
they  sat  down  on  a  bench  under  the  shade  of  a  great 
elm-tree.  Frithiof  could  not  bear  to  look  at  Sigrid,  could 
not  endure  to  watch  the  effect  of  his  words,  he  fixed  his 
eyes  on  the  smutty  sheep  that  were  feeding  on  the  grass 
opposite  him.  Then  very  quietly  and  minutely  he  told 
exactly  what  had  passed  that  afternoon. 

"I  am  glad,"  she  exclaimed,  when  he  paused,  "that 
Mr.  Boniface  was  so  kind.  And  yet,  how  can  he  think 
that  of  you  ? " 

"You  do  not  think  it,  then?"  he  asked,  looking  her 
full  in  the  face. 

"What!  think  that  you  took  it  in  absence  of  mind? 
Think  that  it  would  be  possible  for  you  deliberately  to 
take  it  out  of  the  till  and  pin  it  in  your  own  pocket ! 
Why,  of  course  not  !  In  actual  delirium,  I  suppose,  a 
man  might  do  anything,  but  you  are  as  strong  and  well 
as  any  one  else.  Of  course,  you  had  nothing  whatever 
to  do  with  it,  either  consciously  or  unconsciously." 

"Yet  the  thing  was  somehow  there,  and  the  logical  in- 
ference is,  that  I  must  have  put  it  there,"  he  said,  scan- 
ning her  face  with  keen  attention. 

"  I  don't  care  a  fig  for  logical  inference,"  she  cried,  with 
a  little  vehement  motion  of  her  foot.  "All  I  know  is  that 
you  had  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  it.  If  I  had  to  die 
for  maintaining  that,  I  would  say  it  with  my  last  breath," 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  249 

He  caught  her  hand  in  his,  and  held  it  fast. 

"  If  you  still  believe  in  me  the  worst  is  over,"  he  said. 
"With  the  rest  of  the  world,  of  course,  my  character  is 
gone,  but  there  is  no  help  for  that." 

' '  But  there  must  be  help, "  said  Sigrid.  ' '  Some  one  else 
must  be  giftlty.  The  other  man  in  the  shop  must  cer- 
tainly have  put  it  there." 

" For  what  purpose  ?  "  said  Frithiof,  sadly.  "Besides, 
how  could  he  have  done  it  without  my  knowledge  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Sigrid,  beginning  to  perceive  the 
difficulties  of  the  case.  "  What  sort  of  a  man  is  he?  " 

"I used  to  dislike  him  at  first,  and  he  naturally  disliked 
me  because  I  was  a  foreigner.  But  latterly  we  have  got 
on  well  enough.  He  is  a  very  decent  sort  of  fellow,  and 
I  don't  for  a  moment  believe  that  he  would  steal." 

"One  of  you  must  have  done  it,"  said  Sigrid.  "And 
as  I  certainly  never  could  believe  that  you  did  it,  I  am 
forced  to  think  the  other  man  guilty." 

Frithiof  was  silent.  If  he  did  not  agree  with  her,  was 
he  not  bound  to  accept  Mr.  Boniface's  theory  ?  The  hor- 
rible mystery  of  the  affair  was  almost  more  than  he  could 
endure  ;  his  past  had  been  miserable  enough,  but  he  had 
never  known  anything  equal  to  the  misery  of  being  inno- 
cent, yet  absolutely  unable  to  prove  his  innocence.  Si- 
grid,  glancing  at  him  anxiously,  could  see  even  in  the  dim 
twilight  what  a  heavy  look  of  trouble  clouded  his  face, 
and  resolutely  turning  from  the  puzzling  question  of  how 
the  mystery  could  be  explained,  she  set  herself  to  make 
as  light  of  the  whole  affair  as  was  possible. 

"Look,  Frithiof,"  she  said;  "why  should  we  waste 
time  and  strength  in  worrying  over  this  ?  After  all,  what 
difference  does  it  make  to  us  in  ourselves  ?  Business 
hours  must,  of  course,  be  disagreeable  enough  to  you, 
but  at  home  you  must  forget  the  disagreeables  ;  at  home 
you  are  my  hero,  unjustly  accused,  and  bearing  the  penalty 
of  another's  crime." 

He  smiled  a  little,  touched  by  her  eagerness  of  tone,  and 
cheered,  in  spite  of  himself,  by  her  perfect  faith  in  him. 
Yet  all  through  the  night  he  tossed  to  and  fro  in  sleepless 
misery,  trying  to  find  some  possible  explanation  of  the 
afternoon's  mystery,  racking  his  brain  to  think  of  all  that 
he  had  done  or  said  since  that  unlucky  hour  when  Sar- 
doni  had  asked  for  change. 

The  next  morning,  as  a  natural  consequence,  he  be- 


250  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

gan  the  day  with  a  dull,  miserable  headache  ;  at  break- 
fast he  hardly  spoke,  and  he  set  off  for  business  looking 
so  ill  that  Sigrid  wondered  whether  he  could  possibly  get 
through  his  work.  It  was  certainly  strange,  she  could  not 
help  thinking,  that  fate  seemed  so  utterly  against  him;  and 
that  when  at  last  his  life  was  beginning  to  look  brighter, 
he  should  again  be  the  victim  of  another's  fault.  And  then 
with  a  sort  of  comfort,  there  flashed  into  her  mind  an 
idea  which  almost  reconciled  her  to  his  lot.  What  if  these 
obstacles  so  hard  to  be  surmounted,  these  difficulties  that 
hemmed  him  in  so  persistently,  were  after  all  only  the 
equivalent  to  the  physical  dangers  and  difficulties  of  the 
life  of  the  old  Vikings  ?  Did  it  not,  in  truth,  need  greater 
courage  and  endurance  for  the  nineteenth-century  Frithiof 
to  curb  all  his  natural  desires  and  instincts  and  toil  at  un- 
congenial work  in  order  to  pay  off  his  father's  debts,  than 
for  the  Frithiof  of  olden  times  to  face  all  the  dangers  of 
the  sea,  and  of  foes  spiritual  and  temporal  who  beset  him 
when  he  went  to  win  back  the  lost  tribute  money?  It 
was,  after  all,  a  keen  pleasure  to  the  old  Frithiof  to  fight 
with  winds  and  waves  ;  but  it  was  a  hard  struggle  to  the 
modern  Frithiof  to  stand  behind  a  counter  day  after  day. 
And  then,  again,  was  it  not  less  bitter  for  the  Frithiof  of 
the  Saga  to  be  suspected  of  sacrilege,  than  for  Frithiof 
Falck  to  be  suspected  of  the  most  petty  and  contemptible 
act  of  dishonesty  ? 

She  was  right.  Anything  however  painful  and  difficult 
would  have  been  gladly  encountered  by  poor  Frithiof  if  it 
could  have  spared  him  that  miserable  return  to  his  old 
place  in  Mr.  Boniface's  shop.  And  that  day's  prosaic 
work  needed  greater  moral  courage  than  any  previous 
day  of  his  life. 

About  half-past  nine  there  arrived  a  telegram  which  did 
not  mend  matters.  Mr.  Boniface  was  seriously  unwell, 
would  not  be  in  town  that  day,  and  could  not  be  at  St. 
James's  Hall  that  evening  for  the  concert.  Mr.  Horner 
would  take  his  place.  Frithiofs  heart  sank  at  this  news  ; 
and  when  presently  the  fussy,  bumptious,  little  man  en- 
tered the  shop  the  climax  of  his  misery  was  reached. 
Mr.  Horner  read  the  telegram  with  a  disturbed  air. 

"Dear!  dear!  seriously  ill,  I'm  afraid,  or  he  would  at 
least  make  an  effort  to  come  to-night.  But  after  all  the 
annoyance  of  yesterday  I  am  not  surprised — no,  not  at 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN,  251 

all.  Such  a  thing  has  never  happened  in  his  business 
before,  ay,  Mr.  Foster?" 

"  Oh,  no,  sir,"  said  the  foreman  in  a  low  voice,  sorry 
in  his  heart  for  the  young  Norwegian,  who  could  not 
avoid  hearing  every  word. 

"It  was  quite  enough  to  make  him  ill.  Such  a  disgrace- 
ful affair  in  a  house  of  this  class.  For  his  own  sake  he 
does  well  to  hush  it  up,  though  I  intend  to  see  that  all 
proper  precautions  are  taken  ;  upon  that,  at  any  rate,  I 
insist.  If  I  had  my  own  way  there  should  have  been 
none  of  this  misplaced  leniency.  Here,  William  ! "  and 
he  beckoned  to  the  boy,  who  was  irreverently  flicking 
the  bust  of  Mozart  with  a  duster. 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  William,  who,  being  out  of  the  trouble 
himself,  secretly  rather  enjoyed  the  commotion  it  had 
caused. 

"  Go  at  once  to  Smith,  the  ironmonger,  and  order  him 
to  send  some  one  round  to  fix  a  spring  bell  on  a  till.  Do 
you  understand?" 

"Quite,  sir, "replied  William,  unable  to  resist  glancing 
across  the  counter. 

Frithiof  went  on  arranging  some  music  which  had  just 
arrived,  but  he  flushed  deeply,  and  Mr.  Horner,  glad  to 
have  found  a  vulnerable  point  of  attack,  did  not  scruple 
to  make  the  most  of  his  opportunity.  Never,  surely,  did 
ironmonger  do  his  work  so  slowly  !  Never,  surely,  did 
an  employer  give  so  much  of  his  valuable  time  to  direct 
exactly  what  was  to  be  done,  and  superintending  an  affair 
about  which  he  knew  nothing.  But  the  fixing  of  that 
detestable  bell  gave  Mr.  Horner  a  capital  excuse  for  be- 
ing in  the  shop  at  Frithiof's  elbow,  and  every  word  and 
look  conveyed  such  insulting  suspicion  of  the  Norwegian 
that  honest  old  Foster  began  to  feel  angry. 

"Why  should  I  mind  this  vulgar  brute  ?"  thought 
Frithiof,  as  he  forced  himself  to  go  on  with  his  work  with 
the  air  of  quiet  determination  which  Mr.  Horner  detested. 
But  all  the  same  he  did  care,  and  it  was  the  very  vulgarity 
of  the  attack  that  made  him  inwardly  wince.  His  head- 
ache grew  worse  and  worse,  while  in  maddening  monotony 
came  the  sounds  of  piano-tuning  from  the  inner  shop,  ham- 
mering and  bell-ringing  at  the  till  close  by,  and  covert 
insults  and  inuendoes  from  the  grating  voice  of  James 
Horner.  How  much  an  employer  can  do  for  those  in  his 
shop,  how  close  and  cordial  the  relation  may  be,  he  had 


252  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

learned  from  his  intercourse  from  Mr.  Boniface.  He  now 
learned  the  opposite  truth,  that  no  position  affords  such 
constant  opportunities  for  petty  tyranny  if  the  head  of  the 
firm  happens  to  be  mean  or  prejudiced.  The  miserable 
hours  dragged  on  somehow,  and  at  last,  late  in  the 
afternoon,  Foster  came  up  to  him  with  a  message. 

"Mr.  Homer  wishes  to  speak  to  you,"  he  said:  "I 
will  take  your  place  here."  Then,  lowering  his  voice 
cautiously,  "It's  my  opinion  Mr.  Falck,  that  he  is  trying 
to  goad  you  into  resigning,  or  into  an  impertinent 
answer  which  would  be  sufficient  to  cause  your  dis- 
missal." 

"Thank  you  for  the  warning,"  said  Frithiof  gratefully, 
and  a  little  encouraged  by  the  mere  fact  that  the  foreman 
cared  enough  for  him  to  speak  in  such  a  way,  he  went  to 
the  private  room,  determined  to  be  on  his  guard  and  not 
to  let  pride  or  anger  get  the  better  of  his  dignity. 

Mr.  Horner  replied  to  his  knock,  but  did  not  glance 
round  as  he  entered  the  room. 

"  You  wished  to  speak  to  me,  sir?  "  asked  Frithiof. 

"  Yes,  when  I  have  finished  this  letter.  You  can  wait," 
said  Mr.  Horner  ungraciously. 

He  waited  quietly,  thinking  to  himself  how  different 
was  the  manner  both  of  Mr.  Boniface  and  of  his  son,  who 
were  always  as  courteous  to  their  employe's  as  to  their 
customers,  and  would  have  thought  themselves  as  little 
justified  in  using  such  a  tone  to  one  of  the  men  as  of  em- 
ploying the  slave  whip. 

Mr.  Horner,  flattering  himself  that  he  was  producing 
an  impression  and  emphasizing  the  difference  between 
their  respective  positions,  finished  his  letter,  signed  his 
his  name  with  a  flourish  characteristic  of  his  opinion  of 
himself,  then  swung  round  his  chair  and  glanced  at 
Frithiof. 

"Mr.  Boniface  left  no  instructions  as  to  whether  you 
were  to  attend  as  usual  at  St.  James's  Hall  to-night,"  he 
began.  "  But  since  no  one  else  is  used  to  the  work  I  sup- 
pose there  is  no  help  for  it." 

He  paused,  apparently  expecting  some  rejoinder,  but 
Frithiof  merely  stood  there  politely  attentive. 

"Since  you  know  the  work,  and  are  used  to  it,  you 
had  better  attend  as  usual,  for  I  should  be  vexed  if  any 
hitch  should  occur  in  the  arrangements.  But  understand, 
pray,  that  I  strongly  disapprove  of  your  remaining  in  our 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 


253 


employ  at  all,  and  that  it  is  only  out  of  necessity  that  I 
submit  to  it,  for  I  consider  you  unfit  to  mix  with  respect- 
able people." 

Whatever  the  Norwegian  felt,  he  managed  to  preserve 
a  perfectly  unmoved  aspect.  Mr.  Homer,  who  wanted 
to  stir  him  into  indignant  expostulation,  was  sorely  dis- 
appointed that  his  remarks  fell  so  flat. 

"  I  see  you  intend  to  brazen  it  out, "he said  crushingly. 
"But  you  don't  deceive  me.  You  may  leave  the  room, 
and  take  good  care  that  all  the  arrangements  to-night  are 
properly  carried  out." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Frithiof,  with  the  quietness  of  one  who 
knows  that  he  remains  master  of  the  situation.  But  after- 
ward, when  he  was  once  more  in  the  shop,  the  insults 
returned  to  his  mind  with  full  force,  and  lay  rankling 
there  for  many  a  day  to  come.  Owing  to  the  concert, 
his  release  came  a  little  sooner  than  usual,  and  it  was  not 
much  after  seven  when  Sigrid  heard  him  at  the  door. 
His  face  frightened  her  ;  it  looked  so  worn  and  harassed. 

"You  will  have  time  for  some  supper?"  she  asked 
pleadingly. 

"No,"  he  said,  passing  by  her  quickly,  "I  am  not 
hungry,  and  must  change  my  clothes  and  be  off  again." 

"  He  might  fancy  some  coffee,"  said  Sigrid  to  herself. 
"Quick,  Swanhild,  run  and  get  it  ready  while  I  boil  the 
water.  There  is  nothing  like  strong  cajb  noir  when  one 
is  tired  out." 

Perhaps  it  did  him  some  good  ;  and  the  glimpse  of  his 
home  certainly  cheered  him,  yet,  nevertheless,  he  was 
almost  ready  that  night  to  give  up  everything  in  despair. 

Physical  exhaustion  had  dulled  the  glow  of  inner  com- 
fort that  had  come  to  him  on  the  previous  day.  In  his 
miserable  depression  all  his  old  doubts  assailed  him  once 
more.  Was  there  any  rule  of  justice  after  all  ?  Was  there 
anything  in  heaven  above,  or  in  the  earth  beneath,  but 
cruel  lust  of  power,  and  an  absolute  indifference  to  suffer- 
ing? His  old  hatred  against  those  who  succeeded  once 
more  filled  his  heart,  and  though  at  one  time  he  had  felt 
curious  to  see  Donati,  and  had  heard  all  that  Cecil  had  to 
say  in  favor  of  the  Italian's  courage  and  unselfishness, 
yet  now,  in  his  bitterness  of  soul,  he  began  to  hate  the 
man  merely  because  of  his  popularity.  "I  detest  these 
conceited,  set-up  idols  of  the  public,"  he  thought  to  him- 
self. "When  all  men  speak  well  of  a  fellow  it  is  time 


254  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

to  suspect  him.     His  goodness  and  all  the  rest  of  it  is 
probably  all  calculation — a  sort  of  advertisement !  " 

The  architects  of  most  English  music-halls  have  scant 
regard  for  the  comfort  of  the  artistes.  It  often  used  to 
strike  Frithiof  as  a  strange  thing  that  in  the  Albert  Hall, 
singers  whose  health  and  strength  were  of  priceless  value, 
had  to  wait  about  in  draughty,  sloping  passages,  on  un- 
comfortable chairs,  while  at  St.  James's  Hall  they  had 
only  the  option  of  marching  up  and  down  a  cold,  stone 
staircase  to  the  cloak-room  between  every  song,  or  of  sit- 
ting in  the  dingy  little  den  opening  on  to  the  platform-steps 
— a  den  which  resembles  a  family  pew  in  a  meeting-house. 
Here,  sitting  face  to  face  on  hard  benches,  were  ranged 
to-night  many  of  the  first  singers  of  the  day.  There  was 
Sardoni,  the  good-natured  English  tenor  and  composer. 
There  was  Mme.  Sardoni-Borelli,  with  her  noble  and 
striking  face  and  manner  ;  besides  a  host  of  other  celebri- 
ties, all  the  more  dear  to  the  audience  because  for  years  and 
years  they  had  been  giving  their  very  best  to  the  nation. 
But  Carlo  Donati  had  not  yet  arrived,  and  Mr.  Horner 
kept  glancing  anxiously  through  the  glass  doors  on  to  the 
staircase  in  hopes  of  catching  sight  of  the  great  baritone. 
Frithiof  lived  through  it  all  like  a  man  in  a  dream,  watched 
a  young  English  tenor  who  was  to  make  his  first  appear- 
ance that  night,  saw  him  walking  to  and  fro  in  a  tremend- 
ous state  of  nervousness,  heard  the  poor  fellow  sing  badly 
enough,  and  watched  him  plunge  down  the  steps  again, 
amid  the  very  faint  applause  of  the  audience.  Next  came 
the  turn  of  Mme.  Sardoni-Borelli.  Her  husband  handed 
her  the  song  she  was  to  sing,  she  gave  some  directions 
to  the  accompanist  as  to  the  key  in  which  she  wanted  it 
played,  and  mounted  the  platform  with  a  composed  dignity 
that  contrasted  curiously  with  the  manner  of  the  debutant 
who  had  preceded  her.  Mr.  Horner  turned  to  Frithiof  at 
that  moment. 

"Go  and  see  whether  Signer  Donati  has  come,"  he 
said.  "  His  song  is  next  on  the  programme." 

"Ah,"  said  Sardoni,  with  a  smile,  "he  is  such  a  tre- 
mendous fellow  for  home,  he  never  comes  a  moment  too 
soon,  and  at  the  theatre  often  runs  it  even  closer  than 
this.  He  is  the  quickest  dresser  I  ever  knew,  though, 
and  is  never  behind  time." 

Frithiof  made  his  way  to  the  cloak-room,  and,  as  he 
walked  through  the  narrow  room  leading  to  it,  he  could 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  255 

distinctly  hear  the  words  of  some  one  within.     The  voice 
seemed  familiar  to  him. 

"Badly  received?  Well,  you  only  failed  because  of 
nervousness.  In  your  second  song  you  will  be  more 
used  to  things,  and  you  will  see,  it  will  go  much  better." 

"  Eutjyou  surely  can  never  have  had  the  same  difficulty 
to  struggle  with  ?  "  said  the  young  tenor,  who,  with  a  very 
downcast  face,  stood  talking  to  the  newly-arrived  baritone. 

"Never!"  exclaimed  the  other,  with  a  laugh  which 
rang  through  the  room,  "Ask  Sardoni  !  He'll  tell  you 
of  my  first  appearance." 

Then,  as  Frithiof  gave  his  message,  the  speaker  turned 
round  and  revealed  to  the  Norwegian  that  face  which 
had  fascinated  him  so  strangely  just  before  his  illness — a 
face  not  only  beautiful  in  outline  and  coloring,  but  full  of 
an  undefined  charm,  which  made  all  theories  as  to  the 
conceit  and  objectionableness  of  successful  men  fall  to 
the  ground. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said,  bowing  in  reply  ;  "I  will  come 
down  at  once."  Then,  turning  again  to  the  debutant  with 
a  smile,  "You  see,  through  failing  to  get  that  encore  that 
you  ought  to  have  deserved,  you  have  nearly  made  me 
behind  time.  Never  mind,  you  will  get  a  very  hearty 
one  in  the  second  part  to  make  up.  Come  down  with 
me,  won't  you  ?  It  is  far  better  fun  in  that  family  pew 
below  than  up  here.  Clinton  Cleve  is  here,  isn't  he? 
Have  you  been  introduced  to  him  ?  " 

The  young  man  replied  in  the  negative,  Frithiof  per- 
ceived that  the  idea  had  cheered  him  up  wonderfully,  and 
knew  that  a  word  from  the  veteran  tenor  might  be  of 
great  use  to  a  beginner. 

"I'll  introduce  you,"  said  Donati,  as  they  went  down 
the  stairs.  Frithiof  held  upon  the  swing-doors  for  them 
and  watched  with  no  small  curiosity  the  greeting  be- 
tween Donati  and  the  other  artistes.  His  manner  was 
so  very  simple  that  it  was  hard  to  realize  that  he  was 
indeed  the  man  about  whom  all  Europe  was  raving ;  but 
nevertheless  he  had  somehow  brought  a  sort  of  new  at- 
mosphere into  the  place,  and  even  Mr.  Horner  seemed 
conscious  of  this,  for  he  was  less  fidgety  and  fussy  than 
usual,  and  even  seemed  willing  to  keep  in  the  background. 
There  was  a  hearty  greeting  to  Madame  Sardoni  as  she 
came  down  the  steps  and  a  brisk  little  conversation  in  the 
interval ;  then,  having  wrapped  her  shawl  about  her 


256  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

again,  talking  brightly  all  the  while,  Donati  picked  up 
his  music  and  stepped  on  to  the  platform.  It  was  only 
then  that  Frithiof  realized  how  great  was  his  popularity, 
for  he  was  greeted  rapturously,  and  certainly  he  well 
merited  the  thunder  of  applause  which  broke  forth  again 
at  the  close  of  a  song  which  had  been  given  with  un- 
rivaled delicacy  of  expression  and  with  all  the  charm  of 
his  wonderful  voice.  For  the  time  Frithiof  forgot  every- 
thing ;  he  was  carried  far  away  from  all  conscious- 
ness of  disgrace  and  wretchedness,  far  away  from  all 
recollection  of  Mr.  Homer's  presence  ;  he  could  only  look 
in  astonishment  and  admiration  at  the  singer,  who  stood 
laughing  and  talking  with  Sardoni,  periodically  mounting 
the  platform  to  bow  his  acknowledgments  to  the  audience 
who  still  kept  up  their  storm  of  applause.  When  at  length 
he  had  convinced  them  that  he  did  not  intend  to  sing 
again,  he  began  to  talk  to  Clinton  Cleve,  and  soon  had 
won  for  the  young  debutant  a  few  minutes'  kindly  talk 
with  the  goon-natured  old  singer  who,  though  he  had 
been  the  idol  of  the  British  public  for  many  years,  had 
not  forgotten  the  severe  ordeal  of  a  first  appearance. 
The  young  tenor  brightened  visibly,  and  when  he  sang 
again  acquitted  himself  so  well  that  he  won  the  encore 
which  Donati  had  prophesied. 

All  went  smoothly  until,  early  in  the  second  part,  the 
Italian  baritone  was  to  sing  a  song  with  violin  obligate. 
By  some  unlucky  accident  Frithiof  forgot  to  place  the  music- 
stand  for  the  violinist ;  and  perceiving  this  as  soon  as 
they  were  on  the  platform,  Donati  himself  brought  it  for- 
ward and  put  it  in  position.  It  was  but  a  trifling  occur- 
rence, but  quite  sufficient  to  rouse  Mr.  Horner.  When  the 
singer  returned  he  apologized  to  him  profusely,  and  turned 
upon  Frithiof  with  a  rebuke,  the  tone  of  which  made 
Donati's  eyes  flash. 

"  Pray  do  not  make  so  much  of  it,"  he  said  with  a  touch 
of  dignity  in  his  manner.  Then  returning  again  from 
one  of  his  journeys  to  the  platform,  and  noticing  the  ex- 
pression of  Frithiof  s  face,  he  paused  to  speak  to  him  for 
a  moment  before  returning  to  give  the  encore  that  was 
emphatically  demanded.  It  was  not  so  much  what  he 
said  as  his  manner  of  saying  it  that  caused  Frithiofs  face  to 
brighten,  and  brought  a  frown  to  James  Homer's  brow. 

"It  is  merely  my  duty  to  enlighten  Signer  Donati,"  said 
the  little  man  to  himself—"  merely  my  duty  1" 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  257 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

CARLO  DONATI  had  considerable  insight  into  character; 
not  only  had  he  been  born  with  this  gift,  but  his  wander- 
ing life  had  brought  him  into  contact  with  all  sorts  and 
conditions  of  men,  and  had  been  an  excellent  education 
to  one  who  had  always  known  how  to  observe.  He  was, 
moreover,  of  so  sympathetic  a  temperament  that  he  could 
generally  tell  in  a  moment  when  trouble  was  in  the  air, 
and  the  ridiculously  trivial  affair  about  the  music-stand, 
which  could  not  have  dwelt  in  his  mind  for  a  minute  on 
its  own  account,  opened  his  eyes  to  the  relations  existing 
between  Mr.  Homer  and  the  Norwegian.  That  something 
was  wrong  with  the  latter  he  had  perceived  when  Frithiof 
had  first  spoken  to  him  in  the  cloak-room,  and  now,  hav- 
ing inadvertently  been  the  cause  of  bringing  upon  him  a 
severe  rebuke,  he  was  determined  to  make  what  amends 
lay  in  his  power. 

He  cut  short  Mr.  Horner's  flattering  remarks  and  reiter- 
ated apologies  as  to  the  slight  contretemps. 

"  It  is  of  no  consequence  at  all,"  he  said.  "  By-the-by, 
what  is  the  nationality  of  that  young  fellow  ?  I  like  his 
face." 

"  He  is  a  Norwegian,"  replied  Mr.  Horner,  glancing  at 
Frithiof,  who  was  arranging  the  platform  for  Madame 
Gauthier,  the  pianiste. 

"You  think,  no  doubt,  that  I  spoke  too  severely  to  him 
just  now,  but  you  do  not  realize  what  a  worthless  fellow 
he  is.  My  partner  retains  him  merely  out  of  charity,  but 
he  has  been  proved  to  be  unprincipled  and  dishonest." 

The  last  few  words  reached  Frithiof  distinctly  as  he 
came  down  the  steps,  he  turned  ghastly  pale,  his  very 
lips  grew  white ;  it  was  as  though  some  one  had  stabbed 
him  as  he  re-entered  the  little  room,  and  the  eyes  that 
turned  straight  to  the  eyes  of  the  Italian  were  full  of  a 
dumb  anguish  which  Donati  never  forgot.  Indignant 
with  the  utter  want  of  kindness  and  tact  which  Mr.  Horner 
had  shown,  he  turned  abruptly  away  without  making  the 
slightest  comment  on  the  words,  but  often  through  the 
evening,  when  Frithiof  was  engrossed  in  other  things, 
Donati  quietly  watched  him,  and  the  more  he  saw  of  him 


258  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

the  less  was  he  able  to  believe  in  the  truth  of  the  accusa- 
tion. Meantime  he  was  waiting  for  his  opportunity, 
but  he  was  unable  to  get  a  word  with  the  Norwegian 
until  the  end  of  the  concert,  when  he  met  him  on  the 
stairs. 

"Are  you  at  liberty  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Is  your  work  here 
over  ?  " 

Frithiof  replied  in  the  affirmative,  and  offered  to  look 
for  the  great  baritone's  carriage,  imagining  that  this  must 
be  the  reason  he  had  addressed  him. 

"Oh,  as  to  the  carriage  !  "  said  Donati  easily,  "it  will 
be  waiting  at  the  corner  of  Sackville  Street.  But  I  wanted 
a  few  minutes'  talk  with  you,  and  first  of  all  to  apologize 
for  having  been  the  unwilling  hearer  of  that  accusation, 
which  I  am  quite  sure  is  false." 

Frithiofs  clouded  face  instantly  cleared ;  all  the  old 
brightness  returned  for  a  moment  to  his  frank,  blue  eyes, 
and,  forgetful  of  the  fact  that  he  was  not  in  Norway,  and 
that  Donati  was  the  idolized  public  singer,  he  grasped  the 
hand  of  the  Italian  with  that  fervent,  spontaneous  grati- 
tude which  is  so  much  more  eloquent  than  words. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said  simply. 

"Well,  now,  is  it  possible  for  an  outsider  to  help  in  un- 
raveling the  mystery  ?  "  said  Donati.  "  For  when  a  man 
like  you  is  accused  in  this  way  I  take  it  for  granted  there 
must  be  a  mystery." 

"No  one  can  possibly  explain  it,"  said  Frithiof,  the 
troubled  look  returning  to  his  face.  "I  can't  tell  in  the 
least  how  the  thing  happened,  but  appearances  were  alto- 
gether against  me.  It  is  the  most  extraordinary  affair, 
but  God  knows  I  had  no  hand  in  it." 

"I  want  to  hear  all  about  it, "  said  Donati  with  that 
eagerness  of  manner  and  warmth  of  interest  which  made 
him  so  devotedly  loved  by  thousands.  "  I  am  leaving 
England  to-morrow  ;  can't  you  come  back  and  have 
supper  with  me  now,  and  let  me  hear  this  just  as  it  all 
happened  ? " 

Even  if  he  had  wished  to  refuse,  Frithiof  could  hardly 
have  done  so  ;  and,  as  it  was,  he  was  so  miserable  that 
he  would  have  caught  at  much  less  hearty  sympathy. 
They  walked  along  the  crowded  pavement  toward  Sack- 
ville Street,  and  had  almost  reached  the  carriage  when  a 
conversation  immediately  behind  them  became  distinctly 
audible. 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 


259 


"They  make  such  a  fuss  over  this  Donati,"  said  the 
speaker.  "But  I  happen  to  know  that  he's  a  most  dis- 
reputable character.  1  was  hearing  all  about  him  the 
other  day  from  some  one  who  used  to  know  him  inti- 
mately. They  say  you  know  that " 

Here  the  conversation  died  away  in  the  distance,  and 
what  that  curse  of  modern  society — the  almighty  ' '  THEY  " 
said  as  to  Donati's  private  affairs  remained  unknown  to 
him. 

Frithiof  glanced  at  the  singer's  face.  Apparently  he  had 
not  yet  reached  those  sublime  heights  where  insults  cease 
from  troubling  and  slanders  fail  to  sting.  He  was  still 
young,  and  naturally  had  the  disadvantages  as  well  as 
the  immense  gains  of  a  sensitive  artistic  temperament. 
A  gleam  of  fierce  anger  swept  over  his  face,  and  was 
quickly  succeeded  by  a  pained  look  that  made  Frithiofs 
heart  hot  within  him  ;  in  silence  the  Italian  opened  the 
door  of  the  carriage,  signed  to  Frithiof  to  get  in,  and  they 
drove  off  together. 

"No  matter,"  said  Donati  in  a  minute,  speaking  reflec- 
tively, and  as  if  he  were  alone.  "  I  do  not  sing  for  a 
gossiping  public.  I  sing  for  Christ. " 

"But  that  they  should  dare  to  say  such  a  thing  as 
that !  "  exclaimed  Frithiof,  growing  more  and  more  indig- 
nant as  his  companion's  serenity  returned. 

"For  one's  self, "  said  Donati,  ' '  it  is — well — not  much  ; 
but  for  the  sake  of  those  belonging  to  one  it  certainly  does 
carry  a  sting.  But  every  one  who  serves  the  public  in  a 
public  capacity  is  in  the  same  boat.  Statesmen,  artists, 
authors,  actors,  all  must  endure  this  plague  of  tongues. 
And,  after  all,  it  merely  affects  one's  reputation,  not  one's 
character.  It  doesn't  make  one  immoral  to  be  consid- 
ered immoral,  and  it  doesn't  make  you  a  thief  to  be  con- 
sidered dishonest.  But  now  I  want  to  hear  about  this 
accusation  of  Mr.  Horner's.  When  did  it  all  happen  ?  " 

In  the  dim  light  Frithiof  told  his  story  ;  it  was  a  relief 
to  tell  it  to  sympathetic  ears  ;  Donati's  faith  in  him 
seemed  to  fill  him  with  new  life,  and  though  the  strange 
events  of  that  miserable  Monday  did  not  grow  any  clearer 
in  the  telling,  yet  somehow  a  hope  began  to  dawn  in 
his  heart. 

"It  certainly  is  most  unaccountable,"  said  Donati  as 
the  carriage  drew  up  before  a  pretty  little  villa  in  Avenue 
Road.  He  paused  to  speak  to  the  coachman.  "We  shall 


26o  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

want  the  carriage  in  time  to  go  to  the  9.40  train  at  Char- 
ing Cross,  Wilson  ;  good-night." 

' '  But  if  you  start  so  early, "  said  Frithiof,  "  I  had  better 
not  hinder  you  any  longer." 

"You  do  not  hinder  me;  I  am  very  much  interested. 
You  must  certainly  come  in  to  supper,  and  afterward  I 
want  to  hear  more  about  this.  How  unlucky  it  was  that 
the  five-pound  note  should  have  been  changed  that  day 
by  Sardoni ! " 

At  this  moment  the  door  was  opened  ;  ' '  Frithiof  caught 
a  vision  of  a  slim  figure  in  a  pale  rose-colored  tea-gown, 
and  the  loveliest  face  he  had  ever  seen  was  raised  to  kiss 
Donati  as  he  entered. 

"How  nice  and  early  you  are!"  exclaimed  a  fresh, 
merry  voice.  Then,  catching  sight  of  a  stranger,  and 
blushing  a  little,  she  added,  "I  fancied  it  was  Jack  and 
Domenica  you  were  bringing  back  with  you." 

"Let  me  introduce  you  to  my  wife,  Herr  Falck,"  said 
Donati,  and  Frithiof  instantly  understood  that  here  lay 
the  explanation  of  the  Italian's  faultless  English,  since, 
despite  her  foreign  name,  it  was  impossible  for  a  moment 
to  mistake  Francesca  Donati's  nationality. 

The  house  was  prettily,  but  very  simply,  furnished,  and 
about  it  there  was  that  indefinable  air  of  home  that 
Frithiof  had  so  often  noticed  in  Rowan  Tree  House. 

"You  must  forgive  a  very  unceremonious  supper,  Herr 
Falck,"  said  Francesca,  herself  making  ready  the  extra 
place  that  was  needed  at  table.  "  But  the  fact  is,  I  have 
sent  all  the  servants  to  bed,  for  I  knew  they  would  have 
to  be  up  early  to-morrow,  and  they  feel  the  traveling  a 
good  deal." 

"Much  more  than  you  and  I  do,"  said  Donati.  "We 
have  grown  quite  hardened  to  it. " 

"Then  this  is  not  your  regular  home? "  asked  Frithiof. 

"Yes,  it  is  our  English  home.  We  generally  have  five 
months  here  and  five  at  Naples,  with  the  rest  of  the  time 
either  at  Paris,  or  Berlin,  or  Vienna.  After  all.  a  wander- 
ing life  makes  very  little  difference  when  you  can  carry 
about  your  home  with  you." 

"And  baby  is  the  best  traveler  in  the  world,"  said 
Donati,  "and  in  every  way  the  most  model  baby.  "I 
think,"  glancing  at  his  wife,  "  that  she  is  as  true  a  gypsy 
as  Gigi  himself." 

"  Poor  Gigi  1  he  can't  bear  being  left  behind  I     By-the- 


A  HARDY  NORSE  At  AN.  2  6 1 

by,  had  you  time  to  take  him  back  to  school  before  the 
concert,  or  did  he  go  alone? " 

"I  had  just  time  to  take  him,"  said  Donati  waiting  upon 
Frithiof  as  he  talked.  "  He  was  rather  doleful,  poor  old 
man  ;  but  cheered  up  when  I  told  him  that  he  was  to 
spend  the  summer  holidays  at  Merlebank,  and  to  come 
to  Naples  at  Christmas.  It  is  a  nephew  of  mine  of  whom 
we  speak,"  he  explained  to  Frithiof;  "and,  of  course,  his 
education  has  to  be  thought  of,  and  cannot  always  fit  in 
with  my  engagements.  You  go  in  very  much  for  educa- 
tion in  Norway,  I  understand  ?  " 

Frithiof  found  himself  talking  quite  naturally  and  com- 
posedly about  Norwegian  customs  and  his  former  life, 
and  it  was  not  until  afterward  that  it  struck  him  as  a 
strange  thing  that  on  the  very  day  after  his  disgrace, 
when,  but  for  Mr.  Boniface's  kindness,  he  might  actually 
have  been  in  prison,  he  should  be  quietly,  and  even  for 
the  time  happily,  talking  of  the  old  days.  Nor  was  it 
until  afterward  that  he  realized  how  much  his  interview 
with  the  great  baritone  would  have  been  coveted  by  many 
in  a  very  different  position  ;  for  Donati  would  not  go  into 
London  society,  though  it  was  longing  to  lionize  him. 
His  wife  did  not  care  for  it,  and  he  himself  said  that  with 
his  art,  his  home,  and  his  own  intimate  friends,  no  time 
was  left  for  the  wearing  gayeties  of  the  season.  The 
world  grumbled,  but  he  remained  resolute,  for,  though 
always  ready  to  help  any  one  who  was  in  trouble,  and 
without  the  least  touch  of  exclusiveness  about  him,  he 
could  not  endure  the  emptiness  and  wastefulness  of  the 
fashionable  world.  Moreover,  while  applause  that  was 
genuinely  called  forth  by  his  singing  never  failed  to  give 
him  great  pleasure,  the  flatteries  of  celebrity-hunters  were 
intolerable  to  him,  so  that  he  lost  nothing  and  gained 
much  by  the  quiet  life  which  he  elected  to  lead.  It  was 
said  of  the  great  actor  Phelps  that  "  His  theatre  and  his 
home  were  alike  sacred  to  him  as  the  Temple  of  God. " 
And  the  same  might  well  have  been  said  of  Donati,  while 
something  of  the  calm  of  the  Temple  seemed  to  lurk  about 
the  quiet  little  villa,  where  refinement  and  comfort  reigned 
supreme,  but  where  no  luxuries  were  admitted.  Francesca 
had  truly  said  that  the  wandering  life  made  very  little  dif- 
ference to  them,  for  wherever  they  went  they  made  for 
themselves  that  ideal  home  which  has  been  beautifully 
described  as 


<62  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN: 

"  A  world  of  strife  shut  out, 
A  world  of  love  shut  in." 

They  did  not  linger  long  over  the  supper-table,  for  Frit- 
hiof  was  suffering  too  much  to  eat,  and  Donati,  like  most 
of  his  countrymen,  had  a  very  small  appetite.  Francesca 
with  a  kindly  good-night  to  the  Norwegian  went  upstairs 
to  her  baby,  and  the  two  men  drew  their  chairs  up  to  the 
open  French  window  at  the  back  of  the  room  looking  on 
to  the  little  garden  to  which  the  moonlight  gave  a  certain 
mysterious  charm. 

"  I  have  thought  over  it,"  said  Donati  almost  abruptly, 
and  as  if  the  matter  might  naturally  engross  his  thoughts 
as  much  as  those  of  his  companion.  "But  I  can't  find 
the  very  slightest  clew.  It  is  certainly  a  mystery." 

"And  must  always  remain  so,"  said  Frithiof,  despair- 
ingly. 

"  I  do  not  think  that  at  all.  Some  day  all  will  probably 
be  explained.  And  be  sure  to  let  me  hear  when  it  is,  for 
I  shall  be  anxious  to  know." 

A  momentary  gleam  of  hope  crossed  Frithiof  s  face,  but 
the  gloom  quickly  returned. 

"It  will  never  be  explained,"  he  said.  "I  was  born 
under  an  unlucky  star ;  at  the  very  moment  when  all 
seems  well  something  has  always  interfered  to  spoil  my 
life ;  and  with  my  father  it  was  exactly  the  same — it  was 
an  undeserved  disgrace  that  actually  killed  him." 

And  then,  to  his  own  astonishment,  he  found  himself 
telling  Donati,  bit  by  bit,  the  whole  of  his  own  story. 
The  Italian  said  very  little,  but  he  listened  intently,  and 
in  truth  possessed  exactly  the  right  characteristics  for  a 
confidant — rare  sympathy,  tact,  and  absolute  faithfulness. 
To  speak  out  freely  to  such  a  man  was  the  best  thing  in 
the  world  for  Frithiof,  and  Donati,  who  had  himself  had 
to  battle  with  a  sea  of  troubles,  understood  him  as  a  man 
who  had  suffered  less  could  not  possibly  have  done. 

"It  is  to  this  injustice,"  said  Frithiof,  as  he  ended  his 
tale,  "to  this  unrighteous  success  of  the  mercenary  and 
scheming,  and  failure  of  the  honorable,  that  Christianity 
tells  one  to  be  resigned.  It  is  that  which  sets  me  against 
religion — which  makes  it  all  seem  false  and  illogical — 
actually  immoral." 

Probably  Donati  would  not  even  have  alluded  to  relig- 
ion had  not  his  companion  himself  introduced  the  subject. 
It  was  not  his  way  to  say  much  on  such  topics,  but  when 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  263 

he  did  speak  his  words  came  with  most  wonderful  direct- 
ness and  force.  It  was  not  so  much  that  he  said  any- 
thing noteworthy  or  novel,  but  that  his  manner  had  about 
it  such  an  intensity  of  conviction,  such  rare  unconscious- 
ness, and  such  absolute  freedom  from  all  conventionality. 
"Pardon  me,  if  I  venture  to  show  you  a  flaw  in  your 
argument,"  he  said  quietly.  "  You  say  we  are  told  to  be 
resigned.  Very  well.  But  what  is  resignation  ?  It  was 
well  defined  once  by  a  noble  Russian  writer  who  said  that 
it  is  'placing  God  between  ourselves  and  our  trouble.' 
There  is  nothing  illogical  in  that.  It  is  the  merest  common 
sense.  When  finite  things  worry  and  perplex  you,  turn 
to  the  Infinite  from  which  they  may  be  safely  and  peace- 
fully viewed." 

Frithiof  thought  of  those  words  which  had  involuntarily 
escaped  his  companion  after  the  remark  of  the  passer-by 
in  Piccadilly — "No  matter  ! — I  do  not  sing  fora  gossiping 
world."  He  began  to  understand  Donati  better — he 
longed  with  an  intensity  of  longing  to  be  able  to  look  at 
life  with  such  eyes  as  his. 

"These  things  are  so  real  to  you,"  he  said,  quickly. 
"But  to  me  they  are  only  a  hope — or,  if  for  an  hour  or 
two  real,  they  fade  away  again.  It  may  be  all  very  well 
for  you  in  your  successful,  happy  life,  but  it  is  impossible 
for  me  with  everything  against  me." 

"Impossible!"  exclaimed  Donati,  his  eyes  flashing, 
and  with  something  in  his  tone  which  conveyed  volumes 
to  the  Norwegian. 

"If  not  impossible  at  any  rate  very  difficult,"  he  re- 
plied. 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  Donati,  his  eyes  full  of  sympathy. 
"  It  is  that  to  all  of  us.  Don't  think  I  make  light  of  your 
difficulties.  It  is  hard  to  seek  God  in  uncongenial  sur- 
roundings, in  a  life  harassed  and  misunderstood,  and  in 
apparent  failure.  But — don't  let  the  hardness  daunt  you 
— just  go  on." 

The  words  were  commonplace  enough,  but  they  were 
full  of  a  wonderful  power,  because  there  lurked  beneath 
them  the  assurance — • 

"  I  have  been  through  where  ye  must  go ; 
I  have  seen  past  the  agony." 

"Do  you  know,"  said  Frithiof,  smiling,  "  that  is  almost 
what  you  said  to  me  the  first  time  I  saw  you.  You  have 


264  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

forgotten  it,  but  a  year  ago  you  said  a  few  words  to  me 
which  kept  me  from  making  an  end  to  myself  in  a  fit  of 
despair.  Do  you  remember  coming  to  the  shop  about  a 
song  of  Knight's  ?  " 

"Why,  yes,"  said  Donati.  "Was  that  really  you  ?  It 
all  comes  back  to  me  now — I  remember  you  found  the 
song  for  me,  though  I  had  only  the  merest  scrap  of  it, 
without  the  composer's  name." 

"It  was  just  before  my  illness,"  said  Frithiof.  "I 
never  forgot  you,  and  recognized  you  the  moment  I  saw 
you  to-night.  Somehow  you  saved  my  life  then  just  by 
giving  me  a  hope." 

Perhaps  no  greater  contrast  could  have  been  found 
than  these  two  men  who,  by  what  seemed  a  mere  chance, 
had  been  thrown  together  so  strangely.  But  Donati 
almost  always  attracted  to  himself  men  of  an  opposite 
type  ;  as  a  rule  it  was  not  the  religious  public  that  under- 
stood him  or  appreciated  him  best ;  it  was  the  men  of  the 
world,  and  those  with  whom  he  came  in  contact  in  his 
professional  life.  To  them  his  character  appealed  in  a 
wonderful  way,  and  many  who  would  have  been  ashamed 
to  show  any  enthusiasm  as  a  rule,  made  an  exception  in 
favor  of  this  man,  who  had  somehow  fascinated  them  and 
compelled  them  into  a  belief  in  goodness  little  in  accord 
with  the  cynical  creed  they  professed. 

To  Frithiof  in  his  wretchedness,  in  his  despairing  re- 
bellion against  a  fate  which  seemed  relentlessly  to  pursue 
him,  the  Italian's  faith  came  with  all  the  force  of  a  new 
revelation.  He  saw  that  the  success,  for  which  but  a  few 
hours  ago  he  had  cordially  hated  the  great  singer,  came 
from  no  caprice  of  fortune,  but  from  the  way  in  which 
Donati  had  used  his  gifts  ;  nor  had  the  Italian  all  at  once 
leaped  into  fame,  he  had  gone  through  a  cruelly  hard  ap- 
prenticeship, and  had  suffered  so  much  that  not  even  the 
severe  test  of  extreme  popularity,  wealth,  and  personal 
happiness  could  narrow  his  sympathies,  for  all  his  life  he 
would  carry  with  him  the  marks  of  a  past  conflict — a 
conflict  which  had  won  for  him  the  name  of  the  "Knight- 
errant.  " 

The  same  single-hearted,  generous  nature  which  had 
fitted  him  for  that  past  work,  fitted  him  now  to  be  Frithiof's 
friend.  For  men  like  Donati  are  knights-errant  all  their 
life  long,  they  do  not  need  a  picturesque  cause,  or  seek  a 
paying  subject,  but  just  travel  through  the  world,  succor- 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  265 

ing  those  with  whom  they  come  in  contact.  The  troubles 
of  the  Norwegian,  in  his  prosaic  shop-life,  were  as  much 
to  Donati  as  the  troubles  of  any  other  man  would  have 
been  ;  position  and  occupation  were,  to  him,  very  in- 
significant details  ;  he  did  not  expend  the  whole  of  his 
sympathies  on  the  sorrows  of  East  London,  and  shut  his 
heart  against  the  griefs  of  the  rich  man  at  the  West  End ; 
nor  was  he  so  engrossed  with  his  poor  Neapolitans  that 
he  could  not  enter  into  the  difficulties  of  a  London  shop- 
man. He  saw  that  Frithiof  was  one  of  that  great  multi- 
tude who,  through  the  harshness  and  injustice  of  the 
world,  find  it  almost  impossible  to  retain  their  faith  in 
God,  and,  through  the  perfidy  of  one  woman,  are  robbed 
of  the  best  safeguard  that  can  be  had  in  life.  His  heart 
went  out  to  the  man,  and  the  very  contrast  of  his  present 
life,  with  its  intense  happiness  quickened  his  sympathies. 
But  what  he  said  Frithiof  never  repeated  to  any  one,  he 
could  not  have  done  it  even  had  he  cared  to  try.  When 
at  length  he  rose  to  go  Donati  had,  as  it  were,  saved  him 
from  moral  death,  had  drawn  him  out  of  the  slough  of 
despond,  and  started  him  with  renewed  hope  on  his  way. 

"  Wait  just  one  moment,"  he  said  as  they  stood  by  the 
door  ;  "  I  will  give  you  one  of  my  cards  and  write  on  it 
the  Italian  address.  There  !  Villa  Valentino,  Napoli. 
Don't  forget  to  write  and  tell  me  when  this  affair  is  all 
cleared  up." 

Frithiof  grasped  his  hand,  and,  again  thanking  him, 
passed  out  into  the  quiet,  moonlit  street 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE  events  of  Monday  had  cast  a  shadow  over  Rowan 
Tree  House.  Cecil  no  longer  sang  as  she  went  to  and 
fro,  Mr.  Boniface  was  paying  the  penalty  of  a  stormy 
interview  late  on  Monday  evening  with  his  partner,  and 
was  not  well  enough  to  leave  his  room,  and  Mrs.  Boni- 
face looked  grave  and  sad,  for  she  foresaw  the  difficulties 
in  which  Frithiofs  disgrace  would  involve  others. 

"I  wish  Roy  had  been  at  home,"  she  said  to  her 
daughter  as,  on  the  Wednesday  afternoon,  they  sat  to- 
gether in  the  veranda. 


266  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

Cecil  looked  up  for  a  moment  from  the  little  frock  which 
she  was  making  for  Gwe». 

"If  he  had  been  at  home,  I  can't  help  thinking  that 
this  never  would  have  happened,"  she  said.  "And  I 
have  a  sort  of  hope  that  he  will  find  out  some  explana- 
tion of  it  all." 

"  My  dear,  what  explanation  can  there  be  but  the  one 
that  satisfies  your  father  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Boniface.  "  Frit- 
hiof  must  have  taken  it  in  a  fit  of  momentary  aberration. 
But  the  whole  affair  shows  that  he  is  not  so  strong  yet  as 
we  fancied,  and  I  fear  is  a  sign  that  all  his  life  he  will  feel 
the  effects  of  his  illness.  It  is  that  which  makes  me  so 
sorry  for  them  all. " 

"  I  do  not  believe  that  he  took  it, "  said  Cecil.  ' '  Nothing 
will  ever  make  me  believe  that." 

She  stitched  away  fast  at  the  little  frock,  in  a  sudden 
panic,  lest  the  tears  which  burned  in  her  eyes  should  at- 
tract her  mother's  notice.  Great  regret  and  sympathy 
she  might  allow  herself  to  show,  for  Frithiof  was  a  friend 
and  a  favorite  of  every  one  in  the  house  ;  but  of  the  grief 
that  filled  her  heart  she  must  allow  no  trace  to  be  seen, 
for  it  would  make  her  mother  miserable  to  guess  at  the 
extent  of  her  unhappiness. 

"Did  you  see  him  last  night  at  the  concert?"  asked 
Mrs.  Boniface. 

"  Yes,"  said  Cecil,  choking  back  her  tears  ;  "  just  when 
he  arranged  the  platform.  He  was  looking  very  ill  and 
worn. " 

"  That  is  what  I  am  so  afraid  of.  He  will  go  worrying 
over  this  affair,  and  it  is  the  very  worst  thing  in  the  world 
for  him.  I  wish  your  father  were  better,  and  I  would  go 
and  have  a  talk  with  Sigrid  ;  but  I  hardly  like  to  leave 
the  house.  How  would  it  be,  dearie,  if  you  went  up  and 
saw  them  ? " 

"  I  should  like  to  go,"  said  Cecil  quickly.  "But  it  is 
no  use  being  there  before  seven,  for  Madame  Lechertier 
has  her  classes  so  much  later  in  this  hot  weather." 

"Well,  go  up  at  seven,  then,  and  have  a  good  talk 
with  her  ;  make  her  understand  that  we  none  of  us  think 
a  bit  the  worse  of  him  for  it,  and  that  we  are  vexed  with 
Cousin  James  for  having  been  so  disagreeable  and  harsh. 
You  might,  if  you  like,  go  to  meet  Roy  ;  he  comes  back 
at  half-past  eight,  and  he  will  bring  you  home  again." 

Cecil  cheered  up  a  good  deal  at  this  idea;   she  took 


A  tiARDY  NORSEMAN.  267 

Lance  round  the  garden  with  her,  that  he  might  help  her 
to  gather  flowers  for  Sigrid,  and  even  smiled  a  little  when 
of  his  own  accord  the  little  fellow  brought  her  a  beautiful 
passion-flower  which  he  had  gathered  from  the  house  wall. 

"This  one's  for  my  dear  Herr  Frithiof !  "  he  exclaimed, 
panting  a  little  with  the  exertions  he  had  made  to  reach 
it.  "  It's  all  for  his  own  self,  and  I  picked  it  for  him, 
'cause  it's  his  very  favorite." 

"  You  know,  Cecil,"  said  her  mother  as  she  returned  to 
the  seat  under  the  veranda  and  began  to  arrange  the 
flowers  in  a  basket.  •'!  have  another  theory  as  to  this 
affair.  It  happened  exactly  a  week  after  that  day  at  the 
seaside  when  we  all  had  such  a  terrible  fright  about  Roy 
and  Sigrid.  Frithiof  had  a  long  run  in  the  sun,  which 
you  remember  was  very  hot  that  day  ;  then  he  had  all 
the  excitement  of  rowing  out  and  rescuing  them,  and 
though  at  the  time  it  seemed  no  strain  on  him  at  all,  yet 
I  think  it  is  quite  possible  that  the  shock  may  have  brought 
back  a  slight  touch  of  the  old  trouble." 

"And  yet  it  seemed  to  do  him  good  at  the  time,"  said 
Cecil.  "  He  looked  so  bright  and  fresh  when  he  came 
back.  Besides,  to  a  man  accustomed  as  he  once  was  to 
a  very  active  life,  the  rescue  was,  after  all,  no  such  great 
exertion. " 

Mrs.  Boniface  sighed. 

"It  would  grieve  me  to  think  that  it  was  really  caused 
by  that,  but  if  it  is  so,  there  is  all  the  more  reason  that 
they  should  clearly  understand  that  the  affair  makes  no 
difference  at  all  in  our  opinion  of  him.  It  is  just  possible 
that  it  may  be  his  meeting  with  Lady  Romiaux  which  is 
the  cause.  Sigrid  told  me  they  had  accidentally  come 
across  her  again,  and  that  it  had  tried  him  very  much." 

Cecil  turned  away  to  gather  some  ferns  from  the 
rockery ;  she  could  not  bear  to  discuss  that  last  sugges- 
tion. Later  on  in  the  afternoon  it  was  with  a  very  heavy 
heart  that  she  reached  the  model  lodgings  and  knocked  at 
the  door  that  had  now  become  so  familiar  to  her. 

Swanhild  flew  to  greet  her  with  her  usual  warmth.  It 
was  easy  to  see  that  the  child  knew  nothing  of  the  trouble 
hanging  over  the  house.  "What  lovely  flowers  !  How 
good  of  you  !  "  she  cried. 

But  Sigrid  could  not  speak  ;  she  only  kissed  her,  then 
turned  to  Swanhild  and  the  flowers  once  more. 

"They  are  beautiful!"  she  said.      "Don't  you  think 


268  A  HA  k£>  V  NORSEMAN. 

we  might  spare  some  for  Mrs.  Hallifield?  Run  and  take 
her  some,  dear." 

"When  the  child  ran  off  she  drew  Cecil  into  their 
bedroom.  The  two  girls  sat  down  together  on  the  bed, 
but  Sigrid,  usually  the  one  to  do  most  of  the  talking,  was 
silent  and  dejected.  Cecil  saw  at  once  that  she  must  take 
the  initiative. 

"  I  have  been  longing  to  come  and  see  you,"  she  said. 
"  But  yesterday  was  so  filled  up.  Father  and  mother  are 
so  sorry  for  all  this  trouble,  and  are  very  much  vexed  that 
Mr.  Horner  has  behaved  badly  about  it." 

' '  They  are  very  kind, "  said  Sigrid,  wearily.  ' '  Of  course 
most  employers  would  have  prosecuted  Frithiof,  or,  at  any 
rate,  discharged  him." 

"But,  Sigrid,  what  can  be  the  explanation  of  it?  Oh, 
surely  we  can  manage  to  find  out  somehow  !  Who  can 
have  put  the  note  in  his  pocket  ?  " 

"What!  "  cried  Sigrid.  "Do  not  you,  too,  hold  Mr. 
Boniface's  opinion,  and  think  that  he  himself  did  it 
unintentionally?  " 

"I!"  cried  Cecil,  passionately.  "Never!  never!  I 
am  quite  sure  he  had  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  it." 

Sigrid  flung  her  arms  round  her. 

"  Oh,  how  I  love  you  for  saying  that !  "  she  exclaimed. 

It  was  the  first  real  comfort  that  had  come  to  her  since 
their  trouble,  and,  although  before  Frithiof  she  was  brave 
and  cheerful,  in  his  absence  she  became  terribly  anxious 
and  depressed.  But  with  the  comfort  there  came  a  fresh 
care,  for  something  at  that  moment  revealed  to  her  Cecil's 
secret.  Perhaps  it  was  the  burning  cheek  that  was  pressed 
to  hers,  or  perhaps  a  sort  of  thrill  in  her  companion's 
voice  as  she  spoke  those  vehement  words,  and  declared 
her  perfect  faith  in  Frithiof. 

The  thought  filled  her  with  hot  indignation  against 
Blanche.  "  Has  she  not  only  spoiled  Frithiof's  life,  but 
Cecil's  too  ? "  she  said  to  herself.  And  in  despair  she 
looked  on  into  the  future,  and  back  into  the  sad  past. 
"  If  it  had  not  been  for  Blanche  he  might  have  loved  her 
— I  think  he  would  have  loved  her.  And,  oh,  how  happy 
she  would  have  made  him  !  how  different  his  whole  life 
would  have  been  !  But  now,  with  disgrace,  and  debt, 
and  broken  health,  all  that  is  impossible  for  him.  Blanche 
has  robbed  him,  too,  of  the  power  of  loving  ;  she  has 
cheated  him  out  of  his  heart.  Her  hateful  flirting  has 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  269 

ruined  the  happiness  of  two  people,  probably  of  many 
more,  for  Frithiof  was  not  the  only  man  whom  she 
deceived.  Oh,  why  does  God  give  women  the  power  to 
bring  such  misery  into  the  world? " 

She  was  recalled  from  her  angry  thoughts  by  Cecil's 
voice  ;  it  was  sweet  and  gentle  again  now,  and  no  longer 
vehement. 

"Do  you  know,  Sigrid,"  she  said,  "I  have  great  hopes 
in  Roy.  He  will  be  home  to-night,  and  he  will  come  to 
it  all  like  an  outsider,  and  I  think,  perhaps,  he  will  throw 
some  light  on  the  mystery.  I  shall  meet  him  at  Charing 
Cross,  and,  as  we  drive  home,  will  tell  him  just  what 
happened." 

"  Is  it  to-night  he  comes  home?"  said  Sigrid,  with  a 
depth  of  relief  in  her  tone.  "Oh,  how  glad  I  am!  But 
there  is  Swanhild  back  again.  You  won't  say  anything 
before  her,  for  we  have  not  mentioned  it  to  her  ;  there 
seemed  no  reason  why  she  should  be  made  unhappy,  and 
Frithiof  likes  to  feel  that  one  person  is  unharmed  by  his 
trouble." 

"Yes,  one  can  understand  that,"  said  Cecil.  "And 
Swanhild  is  such  a  child,  one  would  like  to  shelter  her 
from  all  unhappiness.  Are  you  sure  that  you  don't  mind 
my  staying?  Would  you  not  rather  be  alone  to-night?" 

"Oh,  no,  no  !  "  said  Sigrid.  "Do  stay  to  supper.  It 
will  show  Frithiof  that  you  do  not  think  any  the  worse  of 
him  for  this — it  will  please  him  so  much  !  " 

They  went  back  to  the  sitting-room  and  began  to 
prepare  the  evening  meal  ;  and  when,  presently,  Frithiof 
returned  from  his  work,  the  first  thing  he  caught  sight  of 
on  entering  the  room  was  Cecil's  sweet,  open  looking  face. 
She  was  standing  by  the  table  arranging  flowers,  but 
came  forward  quickly  to  greet  him.  Her  color  was  a 
little  deeper  than  usual,  her  hand-clasp  a  little  closer,  but 
otherwise  she  behaved  exactly  as  if  nothing  unusual  had 
happened. 

"  I  have  most  unceremoniously  asked  myself  to  supper," 
she  said,  "for  I  have  to  meet  Roy  at  half-past  eight." 

"  It  is  very  good  of  you  to  come,"  said  Frithiof  grate- 
fully. 

His  interview  with  Carlo  Donati  had  done  much  for 
him,  and  had  helped  him  through  a  very  trying  day  at  the 
shop,  but  though  he  had  made  a  good  start  and  had 
begun  his  new  life  bravely,  and  borne  many  disagreeables 


270  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

patiently,  yet  he  was  now  miserably  tired  and  depressed, 
just  in  the  mood  which  craves  most  for  human  sym- 
pathy. 

"Lance  sent  you  this,"  she  said,  handing  him  the 
passion-flower,  and  making  him  smile  by  repeating  the 
child's  words. 

He  seemed  touched  and  pleased  ;  and  the  conversation 
at  supper-time  turned  a  good  deal  on  the  children.  He 
asked  anxiously  after  Mr.  Boniface,  and  then  they  dis- 
cussed the  concert  of  the  previous  night,  and  he  spoke  a 
little  of  Donati's  kindness  to  him.  Then,  while  Sigrid  and 
Swanhild  were  busy  in  the  kitchen,  she  told  him  what  she 
knew  of  Donati's  previous  life,  and  how  it  was  that  he 
had  gained  this  extraordinary  power  of  sympathy  and 
insight. 

"  I  never  met  any  one  like  him,"  said  Frithiof.  "  He 
is  a  hero  and  a  saint,  if  ever  there  was  one,  yet  without 
one  touch  of  the  asceticism  which  annoys  one  in  most 
good  people.  That  the  idol  of  the  operatic  stage  should 
be  such  a  man  as  that  seems  to  me  wonderful." 

"You  mean  because  the  life  is  a  trying  one?" 

"Yes;  because  such  very  great  popularity  might  be 
supposed  to  make  a  man  conceited,  and  such  an  out-of- 
the-way  voice  might  make  him  selfish  and  heedless  of 
others,  and  to  be  so  much  run  after  might  make  him 
consider  himself  above  ordinary  mortals,  instead  of  being 
ready,  as  he  evidently  is,  to  be  the  friend  of  any  one  who 
is  in  need." 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  like  him,  and  that  you  saw  so  much 
of  him,"  said  Cecil.  "I  wonder  if  you  would  just  see 
me  into  a  cab  now,  for  I  ought  to  be  going." 

He  was  pleased  that  she  had  asked  him  to  do  this ; 
and  when  she  had  said  good-bye  to  Sigrid  and  Swanhild, 
and  was  once  more  alone  with  him,  walking  through 
the  big  court-yard,  he  could  not  resist  alluding  to  it. 

"It  is  good  of  you,"  he  said,  "  to  treat  me  as  though 
I  were  under  no  cloud.  You  have  cheered  me  wonder- 
fully."- 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  "  it  is  not  good  of  me — you  must  not 
think  that  I  believe  you  under  a  cloud  at  all.  Nothing 
would  ever  make  me  believe  that  you  had  anything 
whatever  to  do  with  that  five-pound  note.  It  is  a  mystery 
that  will  some  day  be  cleared  up." 

"That  is  what  Signer  Donati  said.     He,  too,  believed 


A   HARDY  NORSEMAN.  2JI 

in  me  in  spite  of  appearances  being  against  me.  And 
Sigrid  says  the  same.  With  three  people  on  my  side  I  can 
wait  more  patiently." 

Cecil  had  spoken  very  quietly,  and  quite  without  the 
passionate  vehemence  which  had  betrayed  her  secret  to 
Sigrid,  for  now  she  was  on  her  guard  ;  but  her  tone  con- 
veyed to  Frithiof  just  the  trust  and  friendliness  which  she 
wished  it  to  convey  ;  and  he  went  home  again  with  a  fresh 
stock  of  hope  and  courage  in  his  heart. 

Meanwhile  Cecil  paced  gravely  up  and  down  the  arrival 
platform  at  Charing  Cross.  She,  too,  had  been  cheered 
by  their  interview,  but,  nevertheless,  the  baffling  mystery 
haunted  her  continually,  and  in  vain  she  racked  her  mind 
for  any  solution  of  the  affair.  Perhaps  the  anxiety  had 
already  left  its  traces  on  her  face,  for  Roy  at  once  noticed 
a  change  in  her. 

"  Why,  Cecil,  what  has  come  over  you  ?  You  are  not 
looking  well,"  he  said,  as  they  got  into  a  hansom  and  set 
off  on  their  long  drive. 

"  Father  has  not  been  well,"  she  said  in  explanation. 
"  And  I  think  we  have  all  been  rather  upset  by  something 
that  happened  on  Monday  afternoon  in  the  shop. " 

Then  she  told  him  exactly  what  had  passed,  and  waited 
hopefully  for  his  comments  on  the  story.  He  knitted  his 
brows  in  perplexity. 

"  I  wish  I  had  been  at  home,"  he  said.  "  If  only  James 
Homer  had  not  gone  ferreting  into  it,  all  this  would  never 
have  happened.  Frithiof  would  have  discovered  his 
mistake,  and  all  would  have  been  well." 

"  But  you  don't  imagine  that  Frithiof  put  the  note  in 
his  pocket  ?  "  said  Cecil,  her  heart  sinking  down  in  deep 
disappointment. 

"Why,  who  else  could  have  put  it  there?  Of  course 
he  must  have  done  it  in  absence  of  mind.  Probably  the 
excitement  and  strain  of  that  unlucky  afternoon  at  Britling 
Gap  affected  his  brain  in  some  way." 

"I  cannot  think  that, "  she  said  in  a  low  voice.  "And, 
even  if  it  were  so,  that  is  the  last  sort  of  thing  he  would 
do." 

"But  that  is  just  the  way  when  people's  brains  are 
affected,  they  do  the  most  unnatural  things ;  it  is  a  known 
f-\ct  that  young  innocent  girls  will  often  in  delirium  use 
the  most  horrible  language  such  as  in  real  life  they  can- 
not possibly  have  heard.  Ypur  honest  man  is  quite  likely 


272  A  HARD  Y  NORSEMAN. 

under  the  circumstances  to  become  a  thief.  Is  not  this 
the  view  that  my  father  takes  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Cecil.  "But  somehow — I  thought — I 
hoped — that  you  would  have  trusted  him. " 

"  It  doesn't  in  the  least  affect  my  opinion  of  his  char- 
acter. He  was  simply  not  himself  when  he  did  it.  But 
one  can't  doubt  such  evidence  as  that.  The  thing  was 
missed  from  the  till  and  found  pinned  into  his  pocket, 
how  can  any  reasonable  being  doubt  that  he  himself  put 
it  there  ? " 

"It  may  be  unreasonable  to  refuse  to  believe  it — I  can- 
not help  that,"  said  Cecil. 

' '  But  how  can  it  possibly  be  explained  on  any  other 
supposition  ?  "  he  urged,  a  little  impatiently. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Cecil ;  "  at  present  it  is  a  mystery. 
But  I  am  as  sure  that  he  did  not  put  it  there  as  that  I  did 
not  put  it  there." 

"  Women  believe  what  they  wish  to  believe,  and  utterly 
disregard  logic,"  said  Roy. 

"It  is  not  only  women  who  believe  in  him.  Carlo 
Donati  has  gone  most  carefully  into  every  detail,  and  he 
believes  in  him." 

"Then  I  wish  he  would  give  me  his  receipt,"  said  Roy, 
with  a  sigh.  "I  am  but  a  matter-of-fact,  prosaic  man  of 
business,  and  cannot  make  myself  believe  that  black  is 
white,  however  much  I  wish  it.  Have  you  seen  Miss 
Falck  ?  Is  she  very  much  troubled  about  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  she  is  so  afraid  that  he  will  worry  himself  ill ;  but, 
of  course,  she  too  believes  in  him.  I  think  she  suspects 
the  other  man  in  the  shop — Darnell,  but  I  don't  see  how 
he  can  have  anything  to  do  with  it,  I  must  own." 

There  was  a  silence.  Cecil  looked  sadly  at  the  passers- 
by,  lovers  strolling  along  happily  in  the  cool  of  the  even- 
ing, workers  just  set  free  from  the  long  day's  toil,  children 
reveling  in  the  fresh  sweet  air.  How  very  brief  was  the 
happiness  and  rest  as  compared  to  the  hard,  wearing 
drudgery  of  most  of  those  lives  !  Love  perhaps  brightened 
a  few  minutes  of  each  day,  but  in  the  outside  world  there 
was  no  love,  no  justice,  nothing  but  a  hard,  grinding 
competition,  while  Sorrow  and  Sin,  Sickness  and  Death 
hovered  round,  ever  ready  to  pounce  upon  their  victims. 
It  was  unlike  her  to  look  so  entirely  on  the  dark  side  of 
things,  but  Frithiofs  persistent  ill-luck  had  depressed  her, 
and  she  was  disappointed  by  Roy's  words,  Perhaps  it 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 


273 


was  unreasonable  of  her  to  expect  him  to  share  her  view 
of  the  affair,  but  somehow  she  had  expected  it,  and  now 
there  stole  into  her  heart  a  dreary  sense  that  everything 
was  against  the  man  she  loved.  In  her  sheltered  happy 
home,  where  a  bitter  word  was  never  heard,  where  the 
family  love  glowed  so  brightly  that  all  the  outside  world 
was  seen  through  its  cheering  rays,  sad  thoughts  of  the 
strength  of  evil  seldom  came,  there  was  ever  present  so 
strong  a  witness  for  the  infinitely  greater  power  of  love. 
But  driving  now  along  these  rather  melancholy  roads, 
weighed  down  by  Frithiofs  trouble,  a  sort  of  hopelessness 
seized  her,  the  thought  of  the  miles  and  miles  of  houses  all 
round,  each  one  representing  several  troubled,  struggling 
lives,  made  her  miserable.  Personal  trouble  helps  us 
afterward  to  face  the  sorrows  of  humanity,  and  shows  us 
how  we  may  all  in  our  infinitesimal  way  help  to  brighten 
other  lives — take  something  from  the  world's  great  load 
of  pain  and  evil.  But  at  first  there  must  be  times  of  deadly 
depression,  and  in  these  it  is  perhaps  impossible  not  to 
yield  a  little  for  the  moment  to  the  despairing  thought 
that  evil  is  rampant  and  all-powerful.  Poverty,  and  sin, 
and  temptation  are  so  easily  visible  everywhere,  and  to 
be  ever  conscious  of  the  great  unseen  world  encompass- 
ing us,  and  of  Him  who  makes  both  seen  and  unseen  to 
work  together  for  good,  is  not  easy. 

Cecil  Boniface,  like  every  one  else  in  this  world,  had,  in 
spite  of  her  ideal  home,  in  spite  of  all  the  comforts  that 
love  and  money  could  give  her,  to  "dree  her  weird." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

IF  Roy  had  seemed  unsympathetic  as  they  drove  home 
it  was  not  because  he  did  not  feel  keenly.  He  was  indeed 
afraid  to  show  how  keenly  he  felt,  and  he  would  have 
given  almost  anything  to  have  been  able  honestly  to  say 
that  he,  too,  believed  in  some  unexplained  mystery  which 
should  entirely  free  his  friend  from  reproach.  But  he  could 
not  honestly  believe  in  such  a  thing — it  would  have  been  as 
easy  to  him  to  believe  in  the  existence  of  fairies  and  hob- 
goblins. Since  no  such  thing  as  magic  existed,  and  since 
Darnell  had  never  been  an  assistant  of  Maskelyne  and 
IS 


274  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

Cooke,  he  could  not  believe  that  he  hadanythingto  do  with 
the  five-pound  note.  Assuredly  no  one  but  Frithiof  could 
have  taken  it  out  of  the  till  and  carefully  pinned  it  to  the  lin- 
ing of  his  waiste-coat  pocket.  The  more  he  thought  over  the 
details  of  the  story,  the  more  irrational  seemed  his  sister's 
blind  faith.  And  yet  his  longing  to  share  in  her  views 
chafed  and  irritated  him  as  he  realized  the  impossibility. 
His  mind  was  far  too  much  engrossed  to  notice  Cecil 
much,  and  that,  perhaps,  was  a  good  thing,  for  just  then 
in  her  great  dejection  any  ordinarily  acute  observer 
could  not  have  failed  to  read  her  story.  But  Roy,  full  of 

fassionate  love  for  Sigrid,  and  of  hot  indignation  with 
ames  Horner  for  having  been  the  instrument  of  bringing 
about  all  this  trouble,  was  little  likely  to  observe  other 
people. 

Why  had  he  ever  gone  to  Paris  ?  he  wondered  angrily, 
when  his  father  or  James  Horner  could  have  seen  to  the 
business  there  quite  as  well.  He  had  gone  partly  because 
he  liked  the  change,  and  partly  because  he  was  thankful 
for  anything  that  would  fill  up  the  wretched  time  while  he 
waited  for  Sigrid's  definite  reply  to  his  proposal.  But  now 
he  blamed  himself  for  his  restlessness,  and  was  made  mis- 
erable by  the  perception  that  had  he  chosen  differently  all 
would  now  have  been  well. 

He  slept  little  that  night,  and  went  up  to  business  the 
next  morning  in  anything  but  a  pleasant  frame  of  mind, 
for  he  could  hardly  resist  his  longing  to  go  straight  to 
Sigrid,  and  see  how  things  were  with  her.  When  he 
entered  the  shop  Darnell  was  in  his  usual  place  at  the 
left-hand  counter,  but  Frithiof  was  arranging  some  songs 
on  a  stand  in  the  center,  and  Roy  was  at  once  struck  by 
a  change  that  had  come  over  him,  he  could  not  define  it, 
but  he  felt  that  it  was  not  in  this  way  that  he  had  expected 
to  find  the  Norwegian  after  a  trouble  which  must  have 
been  so  specially  galling  to  his  pride.  "  How  are  you  ?  " 
he  said,  grasping  his  hand  ;  but  it  was  impossible  before 
others  to  say  what  was  really  in  his  heart,  and  it  was  not 
till  an  hour  or  two  later  that  they  had  any  opportunity  of 
really  speaking  together.  Then  it  chanced  that  Frithiof 
came  into  his  room  with  a  message. 

"There  is  a  Mr.  Carruthers  waiting  to  speak  to  you," 
he  said,  handing  him  a  card  ;  "he  has  two  manuscript 
songs  which  he  wishes  to  submit  to  you." 

"Tell  him  I  am  engaged,"  said  Roy.     "And  that  as 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 


275 


for  songs,  we  have  enough  to  last  us  for  the  next  two 
years. " 

"They  are  rather  good  ;  he  has  shown  them  to  me. 
You  might  just  glance  through  them,"  suggested  Frithiof. 

"  I  shall  write  a  book  some  day  on  the  sorrows  of  a 
music-publisher!"  said  Roy.  "How  many  thousands 
of  composers  do  you  think  there  can  be  in  this  over- 
crowded country  ?  No,  I'll  not  see  the  man  ;  I'm  in  too 
bad  a  temper  ;  but  you  can  just  bring  in  the  songs,  and  I 
will  look  at  them  and  talk  to  you  at  the  same  time." 

Frithiof  returned  in  a  minute,  carrying  the  neat  manu- 
scripts which  meant  so  much  to  the  composer  and  so 
little,  alas  !  to  the  publisher.  Roy  glanced  through  the 
first. 

"The  usual  style  of  thing,"  he  said.  "Moon,  man, 
and  maid,  rill  and  hill,  quarrel,  kisses — all  based  on  '  So 
the  Story  goes.'  I  don't  think  this  is  worth  sending  to  the 
reader.  What's  the  other?  Words  by  Swinburne:  'If 
Love  were  what  the  Rose  is.'  Yes,  you  are  right ;  this 
one  is  original ;  I  rather  like  t1  t  refrain.  We  will  send 
it  to  Martino  and  see  wh;  t  he  thinks  of  it.  Tell  Mr. 
Carruthers  that  he  shall  hear  ab'  t  it  in  a  month  or  two. 
And  take  him  back  this  moonlight  affair.  Don't  go  yet ; 
he  can  wait  on  tenterhooks  a  little  longer.  Of  course  they 
have  told  me  at  home  about  all  this  fuss  on  Monday,  and 
I  want  you  to  promise  me  one  thing." 

"What  is  that  ? "  said  Frithiof. 

"That  you  won't  worry  about  this  miserable  five-pound 
note.  That  if  you  ever  think  of  it  again,  you  will  remem- 
ber that  my  father  and  I  both  regard  the  accident  as  if  it 
had  never  happened." 

"Then  you  too  take  his  view  of  the  affair?"  said 
Frithiof. 

"Yes,  it  seems  to  me  the  only  reasonable  one;  but 
don't  let  us  talk  .of  a  thing  that  is  blotted  out  and  done 
away.  It  makes  no  difference  whatever  to  me,  and 
you  must  promise  that  you  won't  let  it  come  between 
us." 

"  You  are  very  good  "  said  Frithiof  sadly  ;  and,  remem- 
bering the  hopelessness  of  arguing  with  one  who  took 
this  view  of  his  trouble,  he  said  no  more,  but  went  back 
to  the  poor  composer,  whose  face  lengthened  when  he 
saw  that  his  hands  were  not  empty,  but  brightened  into 
radiant  hope  as  Frithiof  explained  that  one  song  would 


276  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

really  have  the  rare  privilege  of  being  actually  looked  at. 
Being  behind  the  scenes,  he  happened  to  know  that  the 
vast  majority  of  songs  sent  to  the  firm  remained  for  a  few 
weeks  in  the  house,  and  were  then  wrapped  up  again  and 
returned  without  even  being  glanced  at.  His  interven- 
tion had,  at  any  rate,  saved  Mr.  Carruthers  from  that  hard 
fate. 

"And  yet,  poor  fellow,"  he  reflected,  "even  if  he  does 
get  his  song  published  it  is  a  hundred  to  one  that  it  will 
fall  flat  and  never  do  him  any  good  at  all ;  where  one  suc- 
ceeds a  thousand  fail ;  that  seems  the  law  of  the  world, 
and  I  am  one  of  the  thousand.  I  wonder  what  is  the  use 
of  it  all !  " 

Some  lines  that  Donati  had  quoted  to  him  returned  to 
his  mind  : — 

"  Glorious  it  is  to  wear  the  crown 

Of  a  deserved  and  pure  success ; 
He  that  knows  hc»w  to  fail  has  won 
A  crown  whose  luster  is  not  less." 

His  reflections  were  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  two 
customers,  evidently  a  very  recently  married  couple,  who 
had  come  to  choose  a  piano.  Once  again  he  had  to  sum- 
mon Roy,  who  stood  patiently  discoursing  on  the  various 
merits  of  different  makers  until  at  last  the  purchase  had 
been  made.  Then,  unable  any  longer  to  resist  the  feverish 
impatience  which  had  been  consuming  him  for  so  long, 
he  snatched  up  his  hat,  left  word  with  Frithiof  that  he 
should  be  absent  for  an  hour,  and  getting  into  a  hansom 
drove  straight  to  the  model  lodgings. 

He  felt  a  curious  sense  of  incongruity  as  he  walked 
across  the  court-yard  ;  this  great  business-like  place  was, 
as  Sigrid  had  once  said,  very  much  like  a  hive.  An  air  of 
industry  and  orderliness  pervaded  it,  and  Roy,  in  his 
eager  impatience,  felt  as  if  he  had  no  right  there  at  all. 
This  feeling  cast  a  sort  of  chill  over  his  happiness  as  he 
knocked  at  the  familiar  door.  A  voice  within  bade  him 
enter,  and,  emerging  from  behind  the  Japanese  screen, 
he  found  Sigrid  hard  at  work  ironing.  She  wore  a  large 
brown  holland  apron  and  bib  over  her  black  dress,  her 
sleeves  were  turned  back,  revealing  her  round,  white 
arms  up  to  the  elbow,  and  the  table  was  strewed  with  col- 
lars and  cuffs. 

"I  thought  it  was  Mrs.  Hallifield  come  to  scrub  the 
kitchen,"  she  exclaimed,  "or  I  should  not  have  cried 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  277 

'Come  in  ! '  so  unceremoniously.  Cecil  told  us  you  were 
expected  last  night." 

"Will  you  forgive  me  for  coming  at  this  hour?  "he 
began  eagerly.  "I  knew  it  was  the  only  time  I  was 
sure  to  find  you  at  home,  and  I  couldn't  rest  till  I  had  seen 
you." 

"  It  was  very  good  of  you  to  come,"  she  said,  coloring 
a  little  ;  "  you  won't  mind  if  I  just  finish  my  work  while 
we  talk  ? " 

The  ironing  might,  in  truth,  have  waited  very  well ; 
but  somehow  it  relieved  her  embarrassment  to  sprinkle 
and  arrange  and  iron  the  "fine  things  "  which,  from  mo- 
tives of  economy,  she  washed  herself 

"  I  have  seen  Frithiof,"  he  said  rather  nervously.  "  He 
is  looking  better  than  I  had  expected  after  such  an  an- 
noyance." 

"You  have  spoken  to  him  about  it  ?  " 

"Only  for  a  minute  or  two.  After  all,  what  is  there  to 
say  but  that  the  whole  affair  must  be  forgotten,  and  never 
again  mentioned  by  a  soul.  I  want  so  to  make  you  un- 
derstand that  it  is  to  us  nothing  at  all,  that  it  is  ridiculous 
to  suppose  that  it  can  affect  our  thoughts  of  him.  It  was 
the  sort  of  thing  that  might  happen  to  any  one  after  such 
an  illness." 

Sigrid  looked  up  at  him.  There  was  the  same  depth  of 
disappointment  in  her  expression  as  there  had  been  in 
Cecil's. 

"You  take  that  view  of  it,"  she  said  slowly.  "Some- 
how I  had  hoped  you  would  have  been  able  to  find  the 
true  explanation." 

"If  there  were  any  other  you  surely  know  that  I  would 
seek  for  it  with  all  my  might,"  said  Roy.  "But  I  do  not 
see  how  any  other  explanation  can  possibly  exist." 

She  sighed. 

"You  are  disappointed,"  he  said.  "You  thought  I 
should  have  taken  the  view  that  Carlo  Donati  takes.  I 
only  wish  I  could.  But,  you  see,  my  nature  is  more 
prosaic.  I  can't  make  myself  believe  a  thing  when  all  the 
evidences  are  against  it." 

"lam  not  blaming  you,"  said  Sigrid.  "  It  is  quite 
natural,  and  of  course  most  employers  would  have  taken 
a  far  harder  view  of  the  matter,  and  turned  Frithiof  off  at 
a  moment's  notice.  You  and  Mr.  Boniface  have  been 
very  kind," 


278  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

"  Don't  speak  like  that, "  he  exclaimed.  "How  can  you 
speak  of  kindness  as  between  us  ?  You  know  that  Frithiof 
is  like  a  brother  to  me." 

"No,"  she  said:  "you  are  mistaken.  I  know  that 
you  are  fond  of  him  ;  but,  if  he  were  like  a  brother  to  you, 
then  you  would  understand  him  ;  you  would  trust  him 
through  everything  as  I  do. " 

Perhaps  she  was  unreasonable.  But  then  she  was  very 
unhappy  and  very  much  agitated ;  and  women  are  not 
always  reasonable,  or  men  either,  for  that  matter. 

"Sigrid,"  he  said  passionately,  "  you  are  not  going  to 
let  this  come  between  us  ?  You  know  that  I  love  you 
with  all  my  heart,  you  know  that  I  would  do  anything  in 
the  world  for  you,  but  even  for  love  of  you  I  cannot 
make  myself  believe  that  black  is  white." 

"I  am  not  reproaching  you  because  you  do  not  think 
as  we  think,"  she  said  quickly.  "But  in  one  way  this 
must  come  between  us." 

"Hush  !  "  he  said  imploringly  ;  "wait  a  little  longer. 
I  will  not  to-day  ask  you  for  your  ^n~wer;  I  will  wait 
as  long  as  you  please  ;  but  don't  speak  now  while  your 
mind  is  full  of  this  trouble." 

"If  I  do  not  speak  now  when  do  you  think  I  shall  be 
more  at  leisure? "she  asked  coldly.  "Oh,  it  seems  a 
light  thing  to  you,  and  you  are  kind,  and  pass  it  over, 
and  hush  it  up,  but  you  don't  realize  how  bitter  it  is  to  a 
Norwegian  to  have  such  a  shadow  cast  on  his  honesty. 
Do  you  think  that  even  if  you  forget  it  we  can  forget? 
Do  you  think  that  the  other  men  in  the  shop  hold  your 
view  ?  Do  you  think  that  Mr.  Horner  agrees  with  you?" 

"  Perhaps  not.     What  do  I  care  for  them  ? "  said  Roy. 

"  No  ;  that  is  just  it.  To  you  it  is  a  matter  of  indiffer- 
ence, but  to  Frithiof  it  is  just  a  daily  torture.  And  you 
would  have  me  think  of  happiness  while  he  is  miserable  ! 
You  would  have  me  go  and  leave  him  when  at  any  mo- 
ment he  may  break  down  again  !  " 

"I  would  never  ask  you  to  leave  him,"  said  Roy. 
"  Our  marriage  would  not  at  all  involve  that.  It  would 
be  a  proof  to  him  of  how  little  this  wretched  business 
affects  my  opinion  of  him;  it  would  prove  to  all  the  world 
that  we  don't  regard  it  as  anything  but  the  merest  ac- 
cident." 

"Do  you  think  the  world  would  be  convinced?"  said 
Sigrid,  very  bitterly.  "I  will  tell  you  what  it  would  say, 


A  HARDY  ATOXS£MAM  279 

It  would  say  that  I  had  so  entangled  you  that  you  could 
not  free  yourself,  and  that,  in  spite  of  Frithiofs  disgrace, 
you  were  obliged  to  marry  me.  And  that  shall  never  be 
said." 

"For  God's  sake  don't  let  the  miserable  gossip,  the 
worthless  opinion  of  outsiders,  make  our  lives  miserable. 
What  do  we  care  for  the  world  ?  It  is  nothing  to  us. 
Let  them  say  what  they  will  ;  so  long  as  they  only  say 
lies  what  difference  does  it  make  to  us  ? " 

"  You  don't  know  what  you  are  talking  about,"  she 
said,  and  for  the  first  time  the  tears  rushed  to  her  eyes. 
"Your  life  has  been  all  sheltered  and  happy.  But  out 
there  in  Bergen  I  have  had  to  bear  coldness  and  contempt, 
and  the  knowledge  that  even  death  did  not  shield  my 
father  from  the  poisonous  tongues  of  the  slanderers.  Lies 
can't  make  the  things  they  say  true,  but  do  you  think 
that  lies  have  no  power  to  harm  you  ?  no  power  to  tort- 
ure you  ?  Oh  !  before  you  say  that  you  should  just 
try." 

Her  words  pierced  his  heart ;  the  more  he  realized  the 
difficulties  of  her  life  the  more  intolerable  grew  the  long- 
ings to  help  her,  to  shield  her,  to  defy  the  opinion  of  out- 
siders for  her  sake. 

"  But  don't  you  see,"  he  urged,  "  that  it  is  only  a  form 
of  pride  which  you  are  giving  way  to  ?  It  is  only  that 
which  is  keeping  us  apart." 

"And  what  if  it  is,"  she  replied,  her  eyes  flashing.  "A 
woman  has  a  right  to  be  proud  in  such  matters.  Besides, 
it  is  not  only  pride.  It  is  that  I  can't  think  of  happiness 
while  Frithiof  is  miserable.  My  first  duty  is  to  him  ;  and 
how  could  I  flaunt  my  happiness  in  his  face?  how  could 
I  now  bring  back  to  him  the  remembrance  of  all  his  past 
troubles  ? " 

"At  least  wait,"  pleaded  Roy  once  more  ;  "at  least 
let  me  once  more  ask  your  final  answer  a  few  months 
hence." 

"I  will  wait  until  Frithiofs  name  is  cleared,"  she  said 
passionately.  "You  may  ask  me  again  then,  not  be- 
fore. " 

Then  seeing  the  despair  in  his  face  her  strength  all  at 
once  gave  way,  'she  turned  aside  trying  to  hide  her  tears. 
He  stood  up  and  came  toward  her,  her  grief  gave  him 
fresh  hope  and  courage. 

"Sigrid,"  he  said,  "I  will  not  urge  you  any  more.     It 


280  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

shall  be  as  you  wish.  Other  men  have  had  to  Walt.  1 
suppose  I,  too,  can  bear  it.  I  only  ask  one  thing,  tell  me 
this  once  that  you  love  me." 

He  saw  the  lovely  color  flood  her  cheek,  she  turned 
toward  him  silently  but  with  all  her  soul  in  her  eyes. 
For  a  minute  he  held  her  closely,  and  just  then  it  was  im- 
possible that  he  could  realize  the  hopelessness  of  the  case. 
Strong  with  the  rapture  of  the  confession  she  had  made,  it 
was  not  then,  nor  indeed  for  many  hours  after,  that  cold 
despair  gripped  his  heart  once  more.  She  loved  him — 
he  loved  her  with  the  whole  strength  of  his  being.  Was 
it  likely  that  a  miserable  five-pound  note  could  forever 
divide  them  ?  Poor  Roy  !  as  Sigrid  had  said,  he  had 
lived  such  a  sheltered  life.  He  knew  so  little  of  the 
world. 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 

IT  is  of  course  a  truism  that  we  never  fully  appreciate 
what  we  have,  until  some  trouble  or  some  other  loss 
shows  us  all  that  has  grown  familiar  in  a  fresh  light. 
Our  life-long  friends  are  only  perhaps  valued  at  their  true 
worth  when  some  friendship  of  recent  growth  has  proved 
fleeting  and  full  of  disappointment.  And  though  many 
may  love  their  homes,  yet  a  home  can  only  be  properly 
appreciated  by  one  who  has  had  to  bear  from  the  outside 
world  contempt  and  misunderstanding  and  harsh  judg- 
ment. Fond  as  he  had  been  of  his  home  before,  Fnthiof 
had  never  until  now  quite  realized  what  it  meant  to  him. 
But  as  each  evening  he  returned  from  work,  and  from  the 
severe  trial  of  an  atmosphere  of  suspicion  and  dislike,  he 
felt  much  as  the  sailor  feels  when,  after  tossing  about  all 
day  in  stormy  seas,  he  anchors  at  night  in  some  harbor  of 
refuge.  Sigrid  knew  that  he  felt  this,  and  she  was  deter- 
mined that  he  should  not  even  guess  at  her  trouble. 
Luckily,  she  had  plenty  to  do,  so  that  it  was  impossible 
for  her  to  sit  and  look  her  sorrow  in  the  face,  or  brood 
over  it  in  idleness.  It  was  with  her  certainly  as  she  went 
about  her  household  work,  with  her  as  she  and  Swanhild 
walked  through  the  hot  and  crowded  streets,  and  with  her 
as  she  played  at  Madame  Lechertier's  Academy.  But 
there  was  something  in  the  work  that  prevented  the 


A  HARDY  ttOKSEMAtf.  281 

trouble  from  really  preying  on  her  mind,  she  was  sad 
indeed,  yet  not  in  despair. 

Nevertheless  Madame  Lechertier's  quick  eyes  noted  at 
once  the  change  in  her  favorite. 

"  You  are  not  well,  cherie,"  she  said,  "  your  face  looks 
worn.  Why,  my  dear,  I  can  actually  see  lines  in  your 
forehead.  At  your  age  that  is  inexcusable." 

Sigrid  laughed. 

"  I  have  a  bad  habit  of  wrinkling  it  up  when  I  am 
worried  about  anything,"  she  said.  "To-day,  perhaps,  I 
am  a  little  tired.  It  is  so  hot  and  sultry,  and,  besides,  I 
am  anxious  about  Frithiof,  it  is  a  trying  time  for  him." 

"  Yes,  this  heat  is  trying  to  the  strongest,"  said 
Madame  Lechertier,  fanning  herself.  "  Swanhild,  my 
angel,  there  are  some  new  bonbons  in  that  box,  help 
yourself. " 

This  afternoon  it  happened  to  be  a  children's  class,  and 
Madame  Lechertier  invariably  regaled  them  in  the  inter- 
vals of  rest  with  the  most  delicious  French  sweetmeats. 
It  was  a  pretty  sight  to  see  the  groups  of  little  ones,  and 
Swanhild,  in  her  dainty  Norwegian  costume,  handing  the 
bonbons  to  each  in  turn.  Sigrid  always  liked  to  watch 
this  part  of  the  performance,  and  perhaps  the  most  com- 
forting thought  to  her  just  then  was,  that  as  far  as  Swan- 
hild was  concerned,  the  new  life,  in  spite  of  its  restrictions 
and  economies,  seemed  to  answer  so  well.  The  child 
was  never  happier  than  when  hard  at  work  at  the  acad- 
emy— even  on  this  hot  summer  day  she  never  complained ; 
and,  in  truth,  the  afternoons  just  brought  the  right  amount 
of  variety  into  what  would  otherwise  have  been  a  very 
monotonous  life. 

"  Sigrid,"  said  the  little  girl,  as  they  walked  home  to- 
gether, "is  it  true  what  you  said  to  Madame  Lechertier 
about  Frithiof  feeling  the  heat  ?  Is  it  really  that  which 
has  made  him  so  grave  the  last  few  days  ? " 

"  It  is  partly  that,"  replied  Sigrid.  "  But  he  has  a  good 
deal  to  trouble  him  that  you  are  too  young  to  understand, 
things  that  will  not  bear  talking  about.  You  must  try  to 
make  it  bright  and  cheerful  at  home." 

Swanhild  sighed.  It  was  not  so  easy  to  be  bright  and 
cheerful  all  by  one's  self,  and  of  late  Frithiof  and  Sigrid 
had  been — as  she  expressed  it  in  the  quaint  Norse  idiom — 
silent  as  lighted  candles.  People  talk  a  great  deal  about 
the  happy  freedom  from  care  which  children  can  enjoy, 


282  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN*. 

but,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  many  a  child  feels  the  exact  state 
of  the  home  atmosphere,  and  puzzles  its  head  over  the 
unknown  troubles  which  are  grieving  the  elders,  often 
magnifying  trifles  into  most  alarming  and  menacing 
sources  of  danger.  But  Frithiof  never  guessed  either 
little  Swanhild's  perplexities  or  Sigrid's  trouble  ;  when 
he  returned  all  seemed  to  him  natural  and  homelike  ;  and 
perhaps  it  was  as  much  with  the  desire  to  be  still  with 
them,  as  from  any  recollection  of  Donati's  words,  that  on 
the  following  Sunday  he  set  off  with  them  to  the  service 
held  during  the  summer  evenings  at  Westminster  Abbey. 

What  impression  the  beautiful  service  made  on  him 
Sigrid  could  not  tell,  but  the  sermon  was,  unluckily,  the 
very  last  he  ought  to  have  heard.  The  learned  Oxford 
professor  who  preached  to  the  great  throng  of  people  that 
night  could  have  understood  very  little  how  his  words 
would  affect  many  of  his  hearers  ;  he  preached  as  a  pessi- 
mist, he  drew  a  miserable  picture  of  the  iniquity  and  in- 
justice of  the  world,  all  things  were  going  wrong,  the 
times  were  out  of  joint ;  but  he  suggested  no  remedy,  he 
did  not  even  indicate  that  there  was  another  side  to  the 
picture.  The  congregation  dispersed.  In  profound  de- 
pression, Frithiof  walked  down  the  nave,  and  passed  out 
into  the  cool  evening  air.  Miserable  as  life  had  seemed 
to  him  before,  it  now  seemed  doubly  miserable  ;  it  was 
all  a  great  wretched  problem  to  which  there  was  no  solu- 
tion, a  purposeless  whirl  of  buying  and  selling,  a  selfish 
struggle  for  existence.  They  walked  past  the  Aquarium  ; 
the  dingy  side  streets  looked  unlovely  enough  on  that 
summer  night,  and  the  dreary  words  he  had  heard 
haunted  him  persistently,  harmonizing  only  too  well 
with  the  cut  bono  that  at  all  times  was  apt  to  suggest 
itself  to  his  mind.  A  wretched,  clouded  life  in  a  mis- 
erable world,  misfortunes  which  he  had  never  deserved 
eternally  dogging  his  steps,  his  own  case  merely  one  of  a 
million  similar  or  worse  cases.  Where  was  the  use  of  it 
all? 

A  voice  close  beside  him  made  him  start.  They  were 
passing  a  corner  where  two  streets  crossed  each  other, 
and  the  words  that  fell  upon  his  ear,  spoken  with  a 
strange  fervor  yet  with  deep  reverence,  were  just  these  : 

"  Jesus,  blessed  Jesus  !  " 

He  glanced  sharply  round  and  saw  a  little  crowd  of 
people  gathered  together  ;  the  words  had  been  read  from 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  283 

a  nymn-book  by  a  man  whose  whole  heart  had  been 
thrown  into  what  he  read.  They  broke  into  Frithiof's 
reverie  very  strangely.  Then,  immediately  the  people 
began  to  sing  the  well-known  hymn,  "The  Great  Physi- 
cian now  is  near,"  and  the  familiar  tune,  which  had  long 
ago  penetrated  to  Norway,  brought  to  Frithiof's  mind  a 
host  of  old  memories.  Was  it  after  all  true  that  the  prob- 
lem had  been  solved  ?  Was  it  true  that  in  spite  of  suffer- 
ing and  sin  and  misery  the  pledge  of  ultimate  victory  had 
already  been  given  ?  Was  it  true  that  he  whose  uncongenial 
work  seemed  chiefly  to  consist  of  passive  endurance  had 
yet  a  share  in  helping  to  bring  about  the  final  triumph  of 
good? 

From  the  words  read  by  the  street  preacher  his  mind 
involuntarily  turned  to  the  words  spoken  to  him  a  few 
days  before  by  a  stage-singer.  Donati  had  spoken  of 
living  the  life  of  the  crucified.  He  had  said  very  little, 
but  what  he  said  had  the  marvelous  power  of  all  essen- 
tially true  things.  He  had  spoken  not  as  a  conventional 
utterer  of  platitudes,  but  as  one  man  who  has  fought  and 
agonized  and  overcome,  may  speak  to  another  man  who, 
bewildered  by  the  confusion  of  the  battle-field,  begins  to 
doubt  his  own  cause.  And  far  more  than  anything  act- 
ually said  there  came  to  him  the  thought  of  Donati's  own 
life,  what  he  had  himself  observed  of  it,  and  what  he  had 
heard  of  his  story  from  Cecil.  A  wonderfully  great  ad- 
mission was  made  lately  by  a  celebrated  agnostic  writer 
when  he  said  that,  "The  true  Christian  saint,  though  a 
rare  phenomenon,  is  one  of  the  most  wonderful  to  be 
witnessed  in  the  moral  world."  Nor  was  the  admission 
much  qualified  by  the  closing  remark,  "  So  lofty,  so  pure* 
so  attractive  that  he  ravishes  men's  souls  into  oblivion  of 
the  patent  and  general  fact  that  he  is  an  exception  among 
thousands  of  millions  of  professing  Christians." 

Frithiof's  soul  was  not  in  the  least  ravished  into  ob- 
livion of  this  fact,  he  was  as  ready  as  before,  perhaps 
more  ready,  to  admit  the  general  selfishness  of  mankind, 
certainly  he  was  more  than  ever  conscious  of  his  own 
shortcomings,  and  daily  found  pride  and  selfishness  and 
ungraciousness  in  his  own  life  and  character.  But  his 
love  for  Donati,  nis  great  admiration  for  him,  had  changed 
his  whole  view  of  the  possibilities  of  human  life.  The 
Italian  had  doubtless  been  specially  fortunate  in  his 
parentage,  but  his  life  had  been  one  of  unusual  tempta- 


284  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN: 

tion,  his  extremely  rapid  change  from  great  misery  to  the 
height  of  popularity  and  success  had  alone  been  a  very 
severe  trial,  though  perhaps  it  was  what  Frithiof  had 
heard  of  his  three  years  in  the  traveling  opera  company 
that  appealed  to  him  most.  Donati  was  certainly  saint 
and  hero  in  one  ;  but  it  was  not  only  men  of  natural 
nobility  who  were  called  to  live  this  life  of  the  crucified. 
All  men  were  called  to  it.  Deep  down  in  his  heart  he 
knew  that  even  for  him  it  was  no  impossibility.  And 
something  of  Donati's  incredulous  scorn  as  he  flung  back 
the  word  "impossible"  in  his  face,  returned  to  him  now 
and  nerved  him  to  a  fresh  attack  on  the  uncongenial  life, 
and  the  faulty  character  with  which  he  had  to  work. 
The  week  passed  by  pretty  well,  and  the  following  Sun- 
day found  him  tired  indeed,  but  less  down-hearted,  and 
better  able  to  keep  at  arm's  length  his  old  foe  depression. 
For  that  foe,  though  chiefly  due  to  physical  causes,  can, 
as  all  doctors  will  bear  witness,  be  to  a  great  extent  held 
in  check  by  spiritual  energy. 

The  morning  was  so  bright  that  Sigrid  persuaded  him 
to  take  a  walk,  and  fully  intending  to  return  in  an  hour's 
time  to  his  translating,  he  paced  along  the  embankment. 
But  either  the  fine  day,  or  the  mere  pleasure  of  exercise, 
or  some  sort  of  curiosity  to  see  a  part  of  London  of  which 
he  had  heard  a  great  deal,  lured  him  on.  He  crossed 
Blackfriars  Bridge  and  walked  farther  and  farther,  follow- 
ing the  course  of  the  river  eastward  into  a  region,  dreary 
indeed,  yet  at  times  picturesque,  with  the  river  gleaming 
in  the  sunshine,  and  on  the  farther  bank  the  Tower — solid 
and  grim,  as  befitted  the  guardian  of  so  many  secrets  of 
the  past.  Even  here  there  was  a  quiet  Sunday  feeling, 
while  something  familiar  in  the  sight  of  the  water  and  the 
shipping  carried  him  back  in  imagination  to  Norway,  and 
there  came  over  him  an  intense  longing  for  his  own  coun- 
try. It  was  a  feeling  that  often  took  possession  of  him, 
nor  could  he  any  more  account  for  its  sudden  seizures 
than  the  Swiss  can  account  for  that  sick  longing  for  his 
native  mountains,  to  which  he  is  often  liable. 

"  It's  no  use,"  he  thought  to  himself.  "  It  will  take  me 
the  best  part  of  my  life  to  pay  off  the  debts,  and  till  they 
are  paid  I  can't  go." 

He  turned  his  eyes  from  the  river,  as  though  by  doing 
so  he  could  drag  his  thoughts  from  Norway,  when  to  his 
astonishment  he  all  at  once  caught  sight  of  his  own  nat- 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  285 

tional  flag — the  well-known  blue  and  white  cross  on  the  red 
ground.  His  breath  came  fast,  he  walked  on  quickly  to  get 
a  nearer  view  of  the  building  from  which  the  flag  floated. 
Hurriedly  pushing  open  the  door,  he  entered  the  place, 
and  found  himself  in  a  church,  which  presented  the  most 
curious  contrast  to  churches  in  general,  for  it  was  almost 
full  of  men,  and  the  seven  or  eight  women  who 
were  there  made  little  impression,  their  voices  being 
drowned  in  the  hearty  singing  of  the  great  bulk  of  the  con- 
gregation. 

They  began  to  sing  just  as  he  entered;  the  tune  was 
one  which  he  had  known  all  his  life,  and  a  host  of  mem- 
ories came  back  to  him  as  he  heard  once  more  the  slow 
and  not  too  melodious  singing,  rendered  striking,  however, 
because  of  the  fervor  of  the  honest  Norsemen.  Tears, 
which  all  his  troubles  had  not  called  forth,  started  now  to 
his  eyes  as  he  listened  to  the  words  which  carried  him 
right  out  of  the  foreign  land  back  to  his  childhood  at  Ber- 
gen. 


;EE 


r  ?  fr~r  f  r-  •?-  r  rr^-f 

Sorg   o    kja  -  re      fa  -  der  du,         Jeg  wil    ik  -  ke        sor  -   ge, 

L  J    J    J.U-'L-,  J    J    J     J     ,JJ  J. 


J     I*     -»- 


r  i   ' 


-S     *     » 

^        -x-       -am- 


f  w  z  r  r '  i  r  i    r  '  ^  r ' 

IIP  '  i  '  ' 

Ik  -  ke  med   be    kym  -  ret  hn,  Om  min  frem  -  tid  spor  -   ge, 

J      J      J      jlj      J  J.  ..  t     J,  J      J  .-KJ    J. 


±=t 


i    i    r  r .  r  f     'rrrrr 

Sorg  du    for   mig    al    min  tid,         Sorg  for  mig  og     mi  -    ne 


^T^ 


286  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN, 


=j          *    1     *    «!=M-^L   »    *-*         i  i       r 

-f~r-r  '  '  r  T^  "TT^  r  r  'f    rj 

Gud  al-maeg-tig    naa  -  dig,  blid.       Sorg  for      al  -  le       dl    -     net 


Translation. 

"Care,  oh,  dear  Father,  Thou, 
I  will  not  care  ; 
Not  with  troubled  mind 
About  my  future  ask. 
Care  thou  for  me  all  my  life, 
Care  for  me  and  mine  ; 
God  !  Almighty,  gracious,  good, 
Care  for  all  Thine." 

AN  onlooker,  even  a  foreigner  not  understanding  the 
language,  could  not  fail  to  have  been  touched  by  the  mere 
sight  of  this  strange  gathering  in  the  heart  of  London, — 
the  unpretentious  building,  the  antique  look  of  the  clergy- 
man in  his  gown  and  Elizabethan  ruff,  the  ranks  of  men 
— numbering  nearly  four  hundred — with  their  grave, 
weather-beaten  faces,  the  greater  number  of  them  sailors, 
but  with  a  sprinkling  of  business  men  living  in  the  neigh- 
borhood, and  the  young  Norseman  who  had  just  entered, 
with  his  pride  broken  down  by  memories  of  an  old  home, 
his  love  of  Norway  leading  him  to  the  realization  that  he 
was  also  a  citizen  of  another  country,  and  his  stern  face 
softened  to  that  expression  which  is  always  so  full  of  pathos 
— the  expression  of  intent  listening. 

In  the  Norwegian  church  the  subject  of  the  sermon  is 
arranged  throughout  the  year.  On  this  second  Sunday 
after  Trinity  it  was  on  the  Gospel  for  the  day,  the  parable 
of  the  Master  of  the  House  who  made  a  great  supper,  and 
of  the  guests  who  "all  with  one  consent  began  to  make 
excuse."  There  was  nothing  new  in  what  Frithiof  heard  ; 
he  had  heard  it  all  in  the  old  times,  and,  entirely  satisfied 
with  the  happiness  of  self-pleasing,  had  been  among  the 
rich  who  had  been  sent  empty  away.  Now  he  came, 
poor  and  in  need,  and  found  that  after  all  it  is  the  hungry 
who  are  "filled  with  good  things." 

Very  gradually,  and  helped  by  many  flashes  of  light 
which  had  from  time  to  time  come  to  him  in  his  darkest 
hours,  he  had  during  the  last  two  years  groped  his  way 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  287 

from  the  vague  and  somewhat  flippant  belief  in  a  good 
Providence,  which  he  had  once  announced  to  Blanche  as 
his  creed,  and  had  learned  to  believe  in  the  All-Father. 
His  meeting  with  Donati  had  exercised,  and  still  continued 
to  exercise,  an  extraordinary  influence  over  him  ;  but  it 
was  not  until  this  Sunday  morning,  in  his  own  national 
church,  not  until  in  his  own  language  he  once  more  heard 
the  entreaty,  "Come,  for  all  things  are  now  ready!" 
that  he  fully  realized  how  he  had  neglected  the  life  of 
Sonship. 

With  an  Infinite  Love  belonging  to  him  by  right,  he  had 
allowed  himself  to  be  miserable,  isolated,  and  bitter.  To 
many  distinct  commands  he  had  turned  a  deaf  ear.  To 
One  who  needed  him  and  asked  his  love  he  had  replied 
in  the  jargon  of  the  nineteenth  century,  but  in  the  spirit 
of  the  old  Bible  story,  that  practical  matters  needed  him 
and  that  he  could  not  come. 

When  the  preacher  went  on  to  speak  of  the  Lord's  Sup- 
per, and  the  distinct  command  that  all  should  come  to  it, 
Frithiof  began  to  perceive  for  the  first  time  that  he  had 
regarded  this  service  merely  as  the  incomprehensible  com- 
munication of  a  great  gift — whereas  this  was  in  truth 
only  one  side  of  it,  and  he,  also,  had  to  give  himself  up 
to  One  who  actually  needed  him.  It  was  characteristic 
of  his  honest  nature  that  when  he  at  last  perceived  this 
truth  he  no  longer  made  excuse  but  promptly  obeyed,  not 
waiting  for  full  understanding,  not  troubling  at  all  about 
controversial  points,  but  simply  doing  what  he  recognized 
as  his  duty. 

And  when  in  a  rapid  survey  of  the  past  there  came  rec- 
ollections of  Blanche  and  the  wrong  she  had  done  him, 
he  was  almost  startled  to  find  how  quietly  he  could  think 
of  her,  how  possible  it  had  become  to  blot  out  all  the 
resentful  memories,  all  the  reproachful  thoughts  that  for 
so  long  had  haunted  him.  For  the  first  time  he  entirely 
forgave  her,  and  in  the  very  act  of  forgiving  he  seemed  to 
regain  something  of  the  brightness  which  she  had  driven 
from  his  life,  and  to  gain  something  better  and  truer  than 
had  as  yet  been  his. 

All  the  selfish  element  had  died  out  of  his  love  for  her, 
there  remained  only  the  sadness  of  thinking  of  her  dis- 
grace, and  a  longing  that,  even  yet,  the  good  might  pre- 
vail in  her  life.  Was  there  no  recovery  from  such  a  fall  ? 
Was  no  allowance  to  be  made  for  her  youth  and  her  great 


288  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

temptations  ?  If  she  really  repented  ought  not  her  hus- 
band once  more  to  receive  her,  and  give  her  the  protec- 
tion which  he  alone  could  give  ? 

Kneeling  there  in  the  quiet  he  faced  that  great  problem, 
and  with  eyes  cleared  by  love,  with  his  pride  altogether 
laid  low,  and  knowing  what  it  was  both  to  forgive  and 
to  be  forgiven,  he  saw  beyond  the  conventional  view 
taken  by  the  world.  There  was  no  escaping  the  great 
law  of  forgiveness  laid  down  by  Christ,  "If  he  repent, 
forgive  him."  "Forgive  even  as  also  ye  are  forgiven." 
And  if  marriage  was  taken  as  a  symbol  of  the  union  be- 
tween Christ  and  the  Church,  how  was  it  possible  to  ex- 
clude the  idea  of  forgiveness  for  faithlessness  truly  repented 
of?  Had  he  been  in  Lord  Romiaux's  place  he  knew  that 
he  must  have  forgiven  her,  that  if  necessary  he  must  have 
set  the  whole  would  at  defiance,  in  order  once  more  to 
shelter  her  from  the  deadly  peril  to  which,  alone,  she 
must  always  be  exposed. 

And  so  it  happened  that  love  turned  to  good  even  the 
early  passion  that  had  apparently  made  such  havoc  of  his 
life,  and  used  it  now  to  raise  him  out  of  the  thought  of 
his  own  trouble  and  undeserved  disgrace,  used  it  to  lift 
him  out  of  the  selfishness  and  hardness  that  for  so  long 
had  been  cramping  an  otherwise  fine  nature. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

PERHAPS  it  was  almost  a  relief  both  to  Frithiof  and  Si- 
grid  that,  just  at  this  time,  all  intercourse  with  Rowan 
Tree  House  should  become  impossible.  Lance  and  Gwen 
had  sickened  with  scarletina,  and,  of  course,  all  com- 
munication was  at  end  for  some  time  to  come  ;  it  would 
have  been  impossible  that  things  should  have  gone  on 
as  before  after  Frithiofs  trouble  ;  he  was  far  too  proud  to 
permit  such  a  thing,  though  the  Bonifaces  would  have 
done  their  best  utterly  to  forget  what  had  happened.  It 
would  moreover  have  been  difficult  for  Sigrid  to  fall  back 
into  her  former  position  of  familiar  friendship  after  her 
last  interview  with  Roy.  So,  that,  perhaps,  the  only 
person  who  sighed  over  the  separation  was  Cecil,  and  she 
was  fortunately  kept  so  busy  by  her  little  patients  that  she 
had  not  time  to  think  much  of  the  future.  Whenever  the 


A  HARD?  NORSEMAN.  289 

thought  did  cross  her  mind — "  How  is  all  this  going  to 
end  ?  " — such  miserable  perplexity  seized  her  that  she 
was  glad  to  turn  back  to  the  present,  which,  however 
painful,  was  at  any  rate  endurable.  But  the  strain  of 
that  secret  anxiety,  and  the  physical  fatigue  of  nursing 
the  two  children,  began  to  tell  on  her,  she  felt  worn  and 
old,  and  the  look  that  always  frightened  Mrs.  Boniface 
came  back  to  her  face — the  look  that  made  the  poor  mother 
think  of  the  two  graves  in  Norwood  Cemetery. 

By  the  middle  of  August  Lance  and  Gwen  had  re- 
covered, and  were  taken  down  to  the  seaside,  while 
Rowan  Tree  House  was  delivered  into  the  hands  of 
painters  and  whitewashers  to  be  thoroughly  disinfected. 
But  in  spite  of  lovely  weather  that  summer's  holiday 
proved  a  very  dreary  one.  Roy  was  in  the  depths  of  de- 
pression, and  it  seemed  to  Cecil  that  a  great  shadow  had 
fallen  upon  everything. 

"  Robin,"  said  Mrs.  Boniface,  "I  want  you  to  take  that 
child  to  Switzerland  for  a  month  ;  this  place  is  doing  her 
no  good  at  all.  She  wants  change  and  mountain  air." 

So  the  father  and  mother  plotted  and  planned,  and  in 
September  Cecil,  much  against  her  will,  was  packed  off 
to  Switzerland  to  see  snow-mountains,  and  waterfalls, 
when  all  the  time  she  would  far  rather  have  been  seeing  the 
prosaic  heights  of  the  model  lodging-houses,  and  the  dull 
London  streets.  Still  being  a  sensible  girl,  she  did  her 
best  with  what  was  put  before  her,  and,  though  her  mind 
was  a  good  deal  with  Sigrid  and  Frithiof  in  their  trouble 
and  anxiety,  yet  physically  she  gained  great  good  from 
the  tour,  and  came  back  with  a  color  in  her  cheeks  which 
satisfied  her  mother. 

"By-the-bye,  dearie,"  remarked  Mrs.  Boniface,  the  day 
after  her  return,  "your  father  thought  you  would  like  to 
hear  the  Elijah  to-night  at  the  Albert  Hall,  and  he  has  left 
you  two  tickets." 

"Why,  Albani  is  singing,  is  she  not?"  cried  Cecil. 
"  Oh,  yes  ;  I  should  like  to  go  of  all  things  !  " 

"Then  I  tell  you  what  we  will  do  ;  we  will  send  a  card 
and  ask  Mrs.  Homer  to  go  with  you,  for  it's  the  Church 
meeting  to-night,  and  father  and  I  do  not  want  to  miss 
it." 

Cecil  could  make  no  objection  to  this,  though  her 
pleasure  was  rather  damped  by  the  prospect  of  having 
Mrs.  Horner  as  her  companion.  There  was  little  love  lost 


290  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

between  them,  for  the  innate  refinement  of  the  one  jarred 
upon  the  innate  vulgarity  of  the  other,  and  vice  versa. 

It  was  a  little  after  seven  o'clock  when  Cecil  drove  to 
the  Homers'  house  and  was  ushered  into  the  very  gor- 
geous drawing-room.  It  was  empty,  and  by  a  sort  of 
instinct  which  she  could  never  resist,  she  crossed  over  to 
the  fireplace  and  gazed  up  at  the  clock,  which  ever  since 
her  childhood  had  by  its  ugliness  attracted  her  much  as  a 
moth  is  attracted  to  a  candle.  It  was  a  huge  clock  \vith 
a  little  white  face  and  a  great  golden  rock,  upon  which 
golden  pigs  browsed,  with  a  golden  swineherd  in  attend- 
ance. 

"My  dear,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Horner,  entering  with  a 
perturbed  face,  "did  not  my  letter  reach  you  in  time? 
I  made  sure  it  would.  The  fact  is,  I  am  not  feeling  quite 
up  to  going  out  to-night.  Could  you  find  any  one  else, 
do  you  think,  who  would  go  with  you? '' 

Cecil  thought  for  a  moment. 

"Sigrid  would  have  liked  it,  but  I  know  she  is  too  busy 
just  now,"  she  remarked. 

"And,  oh,  my  dear,  far  better  go  alone  than  take  Miss 
Falck  !  "  said  Mrs.  Horner.  "  I  shall  never  forget  what  I 
endured  when  I  took  her  with  me  to  hear  Corney  Grain  ; 
she  laughed  aloud,  my  dear ;  laughed  till  she  positively 
cried,  and  even  went  so  far  as  to  clap  her  hands.  It 
makes  me  hot  to  think  of  it  even." 

Mrs.  Horner  belonged  to  that  rather  numerous  section 
of  English  people  who  think  that  it  is  a  sign  of  good  breed- 
ing to  show  no  emotion.  She  had  at  one  time  been  rather 
taken  by  Sigrid's  charming  manner,  but  the  Norwegian 
girl  was  far  too  simple  and  unaffected,  far  too  spontane- 
ous, to  remain  long  in  Mrs.  Horner's  good  books  ;  she 
had  no  idea  of  enjoying  things  in  a  placid,  conventional, 
semi-bored  way,  and  her  clear,  ringing  laugh  was  in  itself 
an  offence.  Mrs.  Horner  herself  never  gave  more  than  a 
polite  smile,  or  at  times,  when  her  powers  of  restraint  were 
too  much  taxed,  a  sort  of  uncomfortable  gurgle  in  her 
throat,  with  compressed  lips,  which  gallantly  tried  to 
strangle  her  unseemly  mirth. 

"I  always  enjoy  going  anywhere  with  Sigrid,"  said 
Cecil,  who,  gentle  as  she  was,  would  never  consent  to  be 
over-ridden  by  Mrs.  Horner.  "It  seems  to  me  that  her 
Won  lerful  faculty  for  enjoying  everything  is  very  much  to 
be  envied.  However,  there  is  no  chance  of  her  going 


A  HARD  Y  NORSEMAN. 


291 


to-night ;  I  will  call  and  see  whether  one  of  the  Green- 
woods is  disengaged." 

So  with  hasty  farewells  she  went  off,  laughing  to  her- 
self as  the  cab  rattled  along  to  think  of  Mrs.  Homer's  dis- 
comfort and  Sigrid's  intense  appreciation  of  Corney  Grain. 
Fate,  however,  seemed  to  be  against  her;  her  friends,  the 
Greenwoods,  were  out  for  the  evening,  and  there  was 
nothing  left  for  it  but  to  drive  home  again,  or  else  to  go  in 
alone  and  trust  to  finding  Roy  afterward.  To  sacrifice  her 
chance  of  hearing  the  Eli/ah  with  Albani  as  soprano  merely 
to  satisfy  Mrs.  Grundy  was  too  much  for  Cecil.  She  de- 
cided to  go  alone,  and  writing  a  few  words  on  a  card  asking 
Roy  to  come  to  her  at  the  end  of  the  oratorio,  she  sent  it 
to  the  artistes'  room  by  one  of  the  attendants,  and  settled 
herself  down  to  enjoy  the  music,  secretly  rather  glad  to 
have  an  empty  chair  instead  of  Mrs.  Homer  beside  her. 

All  at  once  the  color  rushed  to  her  cheeks,  for,  looking 
up,  she  saw  Frithiof  crossing  the  platform;  she  watched 
him  place  the  score  on  the  conductor's  desk,  and  turn  to 
answer  the  question  of  some  one  in  the  orchestra,  then 
disappear  again  within  the  swing-doors  leading  to  the 
back  regions.  She  wondered  much  what  he  was  thinking 
of  as  he  went  through  his  prosaic  duties  so  rapidly, 
wondered  if  his  mind  was  away  in  Norway  all  the  time — 
whether  autumn  had  brought  to  him,  as  she  knew  it 
generally  did,  the  strong  craving  for  his  old  life  of  adven- 
ture— the  longing  to  handle  a  gun  once  more  ;  or  whether, 
perhaps,  his  trouble  had  overshadowed  even  that,  and 
whether  he  was  thinking  instead  of  that  baffling  mystery 
which  had  caused  them  all  so  much  pain.  And  all  through 
the  oratorio  she  seemed  to  be  hearing  everything  with  his 
ears  ;  wondering  how  the  choruses  would  strike  him,  or 
hoping  that  he  was  in  a  good  place  for  hearing  Albani's  ex- 
quisite rendering  of  "  Hear  ye  Israel."  She  wondered  a 
little  that  Roy  did  not  come  to  her,  or,  at  any  rate,  send 
her  some  message,  and  at  the  end  of  the  last  chorus  began 
to  feel  a  little  anxious  and  uncomfortable.  At  last,  to  her 
great  relief,  she  saw  Frithiof  coming  toward  her. 

"Your  brother  has  never  come,"  he  said,  in  reply  to  her 
greeting.  "I  suppose  this  fog  must  have  hindered  him, 
for  he  told  me  he  should  be  here  ;  and  I  have  been  expect- 
ing him  every  moment." 

' '  Is  the  fog  so  bad  as  all  that  ? "  said  Cecil,  rather  anx- 
iously. 


292  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

"It  was  very  bad  when  I  came,"  said  Frithiof; 
"  However,  by  good  luck,  I  managed  to  grope  my  way 
to  Portland  Road,  and  came  down  by  the  Metropolitan. 
Will  you  let  me  see  you  home  ?  " 

"Thank  you,  but  it  is  so  dreadfully  out  of  your  way. 
I  should  be  very  glad  if  you  would,  only  it  is  troubling 
you  so  much." 

Something  in  her  eager  yet  half-shy  welcome,  and  in 
the  sense  that  she  was  one  of  the  very  few  who  really 
believed  in  him,  filled  Frithiof  with  a  happiness  which 
he  could  scarcely  have  explained  to  himself. 

"You  will  be  giving  me  a  very  great  pleasure,"  he 
said.  "I  expect  there  will  be  a  rush  on  the  trains. 
Shall  we  try  for  a  cab  ? " 

So  they  walked  out  together  into  the  dense  fog,  Cecil 
with  a  blissful  sense  of  confidence  in  the  man  who  piloted 
her  so  adroitly  through  the  crowd,  and  seemed  so  aston- 
ishingly cool  and  indifferent  amid  the  perilous  confusion 
of  wheels  and  hoofs,  which  always  appeared  in  the 
quarter  where  one  least  expected  them. 

At  last  after  much  difficulty,  Frithiof  secured  a  hansom, 
and  put  her  into  it.  She  was  secretly  relieved  that  he  got 
in  too. 

"I  will  come  back  with  you  if  you  will  allow  me,"  he 
said  ;  "for  I  am  not  quite  sure  whether  this  is  not  a  more 
dangerous  part  of  the  adventure  than  when  we  were  on 
foot.  I  never  saw  such  a  fog  !  Why,  we  can't  even  see 
the  horse,  much  less  where  he  is  going." 

"  How  thankful  I  am  that  you  were  here  !  It  would 
have  been  dreadful  all  alone,"  said  Cecil  ;  and  she  ex- 
plained to  him  how  Mrs.  Horner  had  failed  her  at  the  last 
moment. 

He  made  no  comment,  but  in  his  heart  he  was  glad 
that  both  Mrs.  Horner  and  Roy  should  have  proved  faith- 
less, and  that  the  duty  of  seeing  Cecil  home  had  devolved 
upon  him. 

"  You  have  not  met  my  mother  since  she  came  back 
from  the  sea,"  said  Cecil.  "  Are  you  still  afraid  of  infec- 
tion ?  The  house  has  been  thoroughly  painted  and  fumi- 
gated." 

"Oh,  it  is  not  that,"  said  Frithiof;  "but  while  this 
cloud  is  still  over  me,  I  can't  come.  You  do  not  realize 
how  it  affects  everything." 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 


293 


Perhaps  she  realized  much  more  than  he  fancied,  but 
she  only  said, 

"It  does  not  affect  your  own  home." 

' '  No,  that's  true, "  said  Frithiof.  ' '  It  has  made  me  value 
that  more,  and  it  has  made  me  value  your  friendship 
more.  But,  you  see,  you  are  the  only  one  at  Rowan  Tree 
House  who  still  believes  in  me;  and  how  you  manage  to 
do  it  passes  my  comprehension — when  there  is  nothing 
to  prove  me  innocent." 

"None  of  the  things  which  we  believe  in  most  can  be 
absolutely  proved,"  said  Cecil.  "  I  can't  logically  justify 
my  belief  in  you  any  more  than  in  our  old  talks  I  could 
justify  my  belief  in  the  unseen  world." 

"Do  you  remember  that  first  Sunday  when  I  was  stay- 
ing with  you,  and  you  asked  me  whether  I  had  found  a 
Norwegian  church  ? " 

"Yes,  very  well.  It  vexed  me  so  much  to  have  said 
anything  about  it ;  but  you  see,  I  had  always  lived  with 
people  who  went  to  church  or  chapel  as  regularly  as  they 
took  their  meals. " 

"Well,  do  you  know  I  was  wrong  ;  there  is  a  Nor- 
wegian church  down  near  the  Commercial  Docks  at 
Rotherhithe. " 

And  then,  lured  on  by  her  unspoken  sympathy,  and 
favored  by  the  darkness,  he  told  her  of  the  strong  influence 
which  the  familiar  old  chorale  had  had  upon  him,  and 
how  it  had  carried  him  back  to  the  time  of  his  confirma- 
tion— that  time  which  to  all  Norwegians  is  full  of  deep 
meaning  and  intense  reality,  so  that  even  in  the  indif- 
ferentism  of  latesiyears  and  the  fogs  of  doubt  which  pain 
and  trouble  conjure  up,  its  memory  still  lingers  ready  to 
be  touched  into  life  at  the  very  first  opportunity. 

"  It  is  too  far  for  Sigrid  and  Swanhild  to  go  very  often, 
but  to  me  it  is  like  a  bit  of  Norway  planted  down  in  this 
great  wilderness  of  houses, "  he  said.  "It  was  strange 
that  I  should  have  happened  to  come  across  it  so  unex- 
pectedly just  at  the  time  when  I  most  needed  it." 

"But  that  surely  is  what  always  happens,"  said  Cecil. 
"  When  we  really  need  a  thing  we  get  it." 

"You  learned  before  I  did  to  distinguish  between  need- 
ing and  wanting,"  said  Frithiof.  "It  comes  to  some 
people  easily,  I  suppose.  But  I,  you  see,  had  to  lose 
everything  before  understanding — to  lose  even  my  reputa- 
tion for  common  honesty.  Even  now  it  seems  to  me 


294  A  tiARDY  NORSEMAN. 

hardly  possible  that  life  should  go  on  under  such  a  cloud 
as  that.  Yet  the  days  pass  somehow,  and  I  believe  that 
it  was  this  trouble  which  drove  me  to  what  I  really 
needed." 

"  It  is  good  of  you  to  tell  me  this,"  said  Cecil.  "It 
seems  to  put  a  meaning  into  this  mystery  which  is  always 
puzzling  me  and  seeming  so  useless  and  unjust.  By-the- 
bye,  Roy  tells  me  that  Darnell  has  left." 

"Yes,"  said  Frithiof,  "he  left  at  Michaelmas.  Things 
have  been  rather  smoother  since  then." 

"I  can't  help  thinking  that  his  leaving  just  now  is 
indirect  evidence  against  him,"  said  Cecil.  "Sigridand 
I  suspected  him  from  the  first.  Do  not  you  suspect  him  ?  " 

"Yes,"  he  replied,    "I  do.     But  without  any   reason." 

"Why  did  he  go  ?" 

"His  wife  was  ill,  and  was  ordered  to  a  warmer  climate. 
He  has  taken  a  situation  at  Plymouth.  After  all,  there  is 
no  real  evidence  against  him,  and  a  great  deal  of  evidence 
against  me.  How  is  it  that  you  suspect  him  ?  " 

"It  is  because  I  know  you  had  nothing  to  do  with  it," 
said  Cecil. 

He  had  guessed  what  her  answer  would  be,  yet  loved 
to  hear  her  say  the  words. 

It  seemed  to  him  that  the  dense  fog,  and  the  long  drive 
at  foot  pace,  and  the  anxiety  to  see  the  right  way,  and 
the  manifold  difficulties  and  dangers  of  this  night,  re- 
sembled his  own  life.  And  then  it  struck  him  how  tedious 
the  drive  would  have  been  to  him  but  for  Cecil's  presence, 
and  he  saw  how  great  a  difference  her  trust  and  friend- 
ship made  to  him.  He  had  always  liked  her,  but  now 
gratitude  and  reverence  woke  a  new  feeling  in  his  heart. 
Blanche's  faithlessness  had  so  crippled  his  life  that  no 
thought  of  love  in  the  ordinary  sense  of  the  word — of  love 
culminating  in  marriage — came  to  his  mind.  But  yet 
his  heart  went  out  to  Cecil,  and  a  new  influence  crept 
into  his  life — an  influence  that  softened  his  hardness,  that 
quieted  his  feverish  impatience,  that  strengthened  him  to 
endure. 

"  Sigrid  and  Swanhild  have  been  away  with  Mme. 
Lechertier,  have  they  not  ?  "  asked  Cecil,  after  a  silence. 

"  Yes,  they  went  to  Hastings  for  a  fortnight.  We  shut 
up  the  rooms,  and  I  went  down  to  Herr  Sivertsen,  who 
was  staying  near  Warlingham,  a  charming  little  place  in 
the  Surrey  hills." 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  295 

"Sigrid  told  me  you  were  with  him,  but  I  fancied  she 
meant  in  London." 

"No  ;  once  a  year  he  tears  himself  from  his  dingy  den 
in  Museum  Street,  and  goes  down  to  this  place.  We  were 
out  of  doors  most  ot  the  day,  and  in  the  evening  worked 
for  four  or  five  hours  at  a  translation  of  Darwin  which 
he  is  very  anxious  to  get  finished.  Hullo  I  what  is  wrong  ? " 

He  might  well  ask,  for  the  horse  was  kicking  and 
plunging  violently.  Shouts  and  oaths  echoed  through 
the  murky  darkness.  Then  they  could  just  make  out  the 
outline  of  another  horse  at  right  angles  with  their  own. 
He  was  almost  upon  them,  struggling  frantically,  and  the 
shaft  of  the  cab  belonging  to  him  would  have  struck 
Cecil  violently  in  the  face  had  not  Frithiof  seized  it  and 
wrenched  it  away  with  all  his  force.  Then,  suddenly, 
the  horse  was  dragged  backward,  their  hansom  shivered, 
reeled,  and  finally  fell  on  its  side. 

Cecil's  heart  beat  fast,  she  turned  deadly  white,  just  felt  in 
the  horrible  moment  of  falling  a  sense  of  relief  when 
Frithiof  threw  his  arm  around  her  and  held  her  fast ;  then 
for  an  interval  realized  nothing  at  all,  so  stunning  was 
the  violence  with  which  they  came  to  the  ground.  Ap- 
parently both  the  cabs  had  gone  over  and  were  lying  in 
an  extraordinary  entanglement,  while  both  horses  seemed 
to  be  still  on  their  feet,  to  judge  by  the  sounds  of  kicking 
and  plunging.  The  danger  was  doubled  by  the  blinding 
fog,  which  made  it  impossible  to  realize  where  one 
might  expect  hoofs. 

"Are  you  hurt?"  asked  Frithiof,  anxiously. 

' '  No, "  replied  Cecil,  gasping  for  breath.  ' '  Only  shaken. 
How  are  we  to  get  out?  " 

He  lifted  her  away  from  him,  and  managed  with  some 
difficulty  to  scramble  up.  Then,  before  she  had  time  to 
think  of  the  peril,  he  had  taken  her  in  his  arms,  and, 
rashly  perhaps,  but  very  dexterously,  carried  her  out  of 
danger.  Had  she  not  trusted  him  so  entirely  it  would 
have  been  a  dreadful  minute  to  her;  and  even  as  it  was 
she  turned  sick  and  giddy  as  she  was  lifted  up,  and  heard 
hoofs  in  perilous  proximity,  and  felt  Frithiof  cautiously 
stepping  out  into  that  darkness  that  might  be  felt,  and 
swaying  a  little  beneath  her  weight. 

"  Won't  you  put  me  down  ? — I  am  too  heavy  for  you," 
she  said.  But,  even  as  she  spoke,  she  felt  him  shake 
with  laughter  at  the  idea. 


296  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN". 

"I  could  carry  you  for  miles,  now  that  we  are  safely 
out  of  the  wreck,"  he  said.  "  Here  is  a  curbstone,  and — 
yes,  by  good  luck,  the  steps  of  a  house.  Now,  shall  we 
ring  up  the  people  and  ask  them  to  shelter  you  while  I 
just  lend  a  hand  with  the  cab  ?  " 

"No,  no,  it  is  so  late,  I  will  wait  here.  Take  care  you 
don't  get  hurt." 

He  disappeared  into  the  fog,  and  she  understood  him 
well  enough  to  know  that  he  would  keenly  enjoy  the 
difficulty  of  getting  matters  straight  again. 

"I  think  accidents  agree  with  you,"  she  said,  laugh- 
ingly, when  by-and-bye  he  came  back  to  her,  seeming 
unusually  cheerful. 

"I  can't  help  laughing  now  to  think  of  the  ridiculous 
way  in  which  both  cabs  went  down  and  both  horses  stood 
up,"  he  said.  "  It  is  wonderful  that  more  damage  was 
not  done.  We  all  seem  to  have  escaped  with  bruises,  and 
nothing  is  broken  except  the  shafts." 

"  Let  us  walk  home  now,"  said  Cecil.  "  Does  any  one 
know  whereabout  we  are  ?  " 

"The  driver  says  it  is  Battersea  Bridge  Road,  some 
way  from  Rowan  Tree  House,  you  see,  but,  if  you 
would  not  be  too  tired,  it  would  certainly  be  better  not  to 
stay  for  another  cab." 

So  they  set  off,  and,  with  much  difficulty,  at  length 
groped  their  way  to  Brixton,  not  getting  home  till  long 
after  midnight.  At  the  door  Frithiof  said  good-bye,  and 
for  the  first  time  since  the  accident  Cecil  remembered  his 
trouble  ;  in  talking  of  many  things  she  had  lost  sight  of 
it,  but  now  it  came  back  to  her  with  a  swift  pang,  all  the 
harder  to  bear  because  of  the  happiness  of  the  last  half 
hour. 

"You  must  not  go  back  without  resting  and  having 
something  to  eat,"  she  said,  pleadingly. 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  he  replied,  "  but  I  cannot  come 
in." 

"But  I  shall  be  so  unhappy  about  you,  if  you  go 
all  that  long  way  back  without  food ;  come  in,  if  it  is 
only  to  please  me." 

Something  in  her  tone  touched  him,  and  at  that  moment 
the  door  was  opened  by  Mr.  Boniface  himself. 

"Why,  Cecil,"  he  cried.  "  We  have  been  quite  anxious 
about  you." 

"Frithiof   saw   me    home   because  of   the  fog,"  she 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  297 

explained.  "And  our  hansom  was  overturned  at  Batter- 
sea,  so  we  have  had  to  walk  from  there.  Please  ask 
Frithiof  to  come  in,  father,  we  are  so  dreadfully  cold  and 
hungry,  yet  he  will  insist  on  going  straight  home." 

"It's  not  to  be  thought  of," said  Mr.  Boniface.  "Come 
in,  come  in,  I  never  saw  such  a  fog." 

So  once  more  Frithiof  found  himself  in  the  familiar 
house  which  always  seemed  so  homelike  to  him,  and  for 
the  first  time  since  his  disgrace  he  shook  hands  with  Mrs. 
Boniface ;  she  was  kindness  itself,  and  yet  somehow  the 
meeting  was  painful,  and  Frithiof  wished  himself  once 
more  in  the  foggy  streets.  Cecil  seemed  intuitively  to 
know  how  he  felt,  for  she  talked  fast  and  gayly  as  though 
to  fill  up  the  sense  of  something  wanting  which  was  op- 
pressing him. 

"I  am  sure  we  are  very  grateful  to  you,"  said  Mrs. 
Boniface,  when  she  had  heard  all  about  the  adventure, 
and  his  rescue  of  Cecil.  "I  can't  think  what  Cecil  would 
have  done  without  you.  As  for  Roy,  finding  it  so  foggy 
and  having  a  bad  headache,  he  came  home  early  and  is 
now  gone  to  bed.  But  come  in  and  get  warm  by  the 
fire.  I  don't  know  why  we  are  all  standing  in  the  hall. " 

She  led  the  way  into  the  drawing-room,  and  Cecil  gave 
a  cry  of  astonishment,  for,  standing  on  the  hearth-rug 
was  a  little  figure  in  a  red  dressing-gown,  looking  very 
much  like  a  wooden  Noah  in  a  toy  ark. 

"Why,  Lance,"  she  cried,  "you  up  at  this  time  of 
night !  " 

The  little  fellow  flew  to  meet  her  and  clung  round  her 
neck. 

"I  really  couldn't  exackly  help  crying, "  he  said,  "for 
I  couldn't  keep  the  tears  out  of  my  eyes." 

"  He  woke  up  a  few  minutes  ago,"  said  Mrs.  Boniface, 
"and  finding  your  bed  empty  thought  that  something 
dreadful  had  happened  to  you,  and  as  nurse  was  asleep  I 
brought  him  down  here,  for  he  was  so  cold  and  fright- 
ened." 

By  this  time  Lance  had  released  Cecil  and  was  clinging 
to  Frithiof. 

"Gwen  and  me's  been  ill,"  he  said,  proudly,  "and  I've 
grown  a  whole  inch  since  you  were  here  last.  My  throat 
doesn't  hurten  me  now  at  all." 

The  happy  unconsciousness  of  the  little  fellow  seemed 
to  thaw  Frithiof  at  once,  the  wretched  five-pound  note 


498  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

ceased  to  haunt  him  as  he  sat  with  Lance  on  his  knee, 
and  he  ate  without  much  thought  the  supper  that  he  had 
fancied  would  choke  him.  For  Lance,  who  was  faithful 
to  his  old  friends,  entirely  refused  to  leave  him,  but  se- 
renely ate  biscuits  and  begged  stray  sips  of  his  hot  cocoa, 
his  merry  childish  talk  filling  up  the  gaps  in  a  wonderful 
way  and  setting  them  all  at  their  ease. 

"Had  you  not  better  stay  here  for  the  night?"  said 
Mrs.  Boniface,  presently.  "I  can't  bear  to  think  of  your 
having  that  long  walk  through  the  fog." 

"You  are  very  kind,"  he  said,  "but  Sigrid  would  be 
frightened  if  I  didn't  turn  up,"  and  kissing  Lance,  he  set 
him  down  on  the  hearthrug,  and  rose  *o  go.  Cecil's 
thanks  and  warm  hand-clasp  lingered  with  him  pleasantly, 
and  he  set  out  on  his  walk  home  all  the  better  for  his 
visit  to  Rowan  Tree  House. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

HAD  it  not  been  for  the  fog  his  long  walk  might  have 
made  him  sleepy,  but  the  necessity  of  keeping  every 
faculty  on  the  alert  and  of  sharply  watching  every  cross- 
ing  and  every  landmark  made  that  out  of  the  question. 
Moreover,  now  that  he  had  quite  recovered  from  his  ill- 
ness it  took  a  great  deal  to  tire  him,  and,  whenever  he 
did  succumb,  it  was  to  mental  worry,  never  to  physical 
fatigue.  So  he  tramped  along  pretty  cheerfully,  rather 
enjoying  the  novelty  of  the  thing,  but  making  as  much 
haste  as  he  could  on  account  of  Sigrid.  He  had  just 
reached  the  outer  door  of  the  model  lodgings  and  was 
about  to  unlock  it  with  the  key  which  was  always  furnished 
to  those  whose  work  detained  them  beyond  the  hour  of 
closing,  when  he  was  startled  by  something  that  sounded 
like  a  sob  close  by  him.  He  paused  and  listened ;  it 
came  again. 

"Who  is  there?"  he  said,  straining  his  eyes  to  pierce 
the  thick  curtain  of  fog  that  hung  before  him. 

The  figure  of  a  woman  approached  him. 

"  Oh,  sir,"  she  said,  checking  her  sobs,  "  have  you  the 
key,  and  can  you  let  me  in  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  have  a  key.     Do  you  live  here?" 

"No,  sir,  but  I'm  sister  to  Mrs,  Hallifield.     Perhaps  you 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  299 

know  Hallifield,  the  tram  conductor.  I  came  to  see  him 
to-night  because  he  was  taken  so  ill,  but  I  got  hindered 
setting  out  again,  and  didn't  allow  time  to  get  back  to 
Macdougal's.  I'm  in  his  shop,  and  the  rule  at  his  board- 
ing-houses is  that  the  door  is  closed  at  eleven  and  mayn't 
be  opened  any  more,  and  when  I  got  there,  sir,  being 
hindered  with  the  fog,  it  was  five  minutes  past." 

"And  they  wouldn't  let  you  in?"  asked  Frithiof. 
"What  an  abominable  thing — the  man  ought  to  be 
ashamed  of  himself  for  having  such  a  rule  !  Come  in  ; 
why  you  must  be  half  frozen  !  I  know  your  sister  quite 
well ! " 

"I  can  never  thank  you  enough,"  said  the  poor  girl. 
"  I  thought  I  should  have  had  to  stay  out  all  night  ! 
There's  a  light,  I  see,  in  the  window  ;  my  brother-in-law 
is  worse,  I  expect. " 

"What  is  wrong  with  him  ? "  asked  Frithiof. 

"Oh,  he's  been  failing  this  long  time,"  said  the  girl; 
"it's  the  long  hours  of  the  trams  he's  dying  of.  There's 
never  any  rest  for  them  you  see,  sir  ;  winter  and  summer, 
Sunday  and  week  day  they  have  to  drudge  on.  He's  a 
kind  husband  and  a  good  father  too,  and  he  will  go  on 
working  for  the  sake  of  keeping  the  home  together,  but 
it's  little  of  the  home  he  sees  when  he  has  to  be  away 
from  it  sixteen  hours  every  day.  They  say  they're 
going  to  give  more  holidays  and  shorter  hours,  but  there's 
a  long  time  spent  in  talking  of  things,  it  seems  to  me, 
and  in  the  meanwhile  John's  dying." 

Frithiof  remembered  how  Sigrid  had  mentioned  this 
very  thing  to  him  in  the  summer  when  he  had  told  her 
of  his  disgrace  ;  he  had  been  too  full  of  his  own  affairs 
to  heed  her  much,  but  now  his  heart  grew  hot  at  the 
thought  of  this  pitiable  waste  of  human  life,  this  grinding 
out  of  a  larger  dividend  at  the  cost  of  such  terrible 
suffering.  It  was  a  sign  that  his  new  life  had  actually 
begun  when,  instead  of  merely  railing  at  the  injustice  of 
the  world,  he  began  to  think  what  he  himself  could  do  in 
this  matter. 

"Perhaps  they  will  want  the  doctor  fetched.  I  will 
come  with  you  to  the  door  and  you  shall  just  see,"  he 
said. 

And  the  girl  thanking  him,  knocked  at  her  sister's  door, 
spoke  to  some  one  inside,  and  returning,  asked  him  to 
come  in.  To  his  surprise  he  found  Sigrid  in  the  little 


306  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

kitchen  ;  she  was  walking  to  and  fro  with  the  baby,  a 
sturdy  little  fellow  of  a  year  old. 

"You  are  back  at  last, "she  said.  "I  was  getting  quite 
anxious  about  you.  Mr.  Hallifield  was  taken  so  much 
worse  to-day,  and  hearing  the  baby  crying  I  came  in  to 
help." 

"  How  about  the  doctor  ?     Do  they  want  him  fetched  ? " 

"  No,  he  came  here  about  ten  o'clock,  and  he  says 
there  is  nothing  to  be  done  ;  it  is  only  a  question  of  hours 
now." 

At  this  moment  the  poor  wife  came  into  the  kitchen, 
she  was  still  quite  young,  and  the  dumb  anguish  in  her 
face  brought  the  tears  into  Sigrid's  eyes. 

"What,  Clara!  "she  exclaimed,  perceiving  her  sister, 
"you  back  again  !  " 

"I  was  too  late,"  said  the  girl,  "and  they  had  locked 
me  out.  But  it's  no  matter  now  that  the  gentleman  has 
let  me  in  here.  Is  John  worse  again  ?  " 

"  He'll  not  last  long,"  said  the  wife,  "and  he  be  that 
set  on  getting  in  here  to  the  fire,  for  he's  mortal  cold. 
But  I  doubt  if  he's  strength  to  walk  so  far." 

"  Frithiof,  you  could  help  him  in,"  said  Sigrid. 

"Will  you,  sir?  I'll  thank  you  kindly  if  you  will," 
said  Mrs.  Hallifield,  leading  the  way  to  the  bedroom. 

Frithiof  followed  her,  and  glancing  toward  the  bed 
could  hardly  control  the  awed  surprise  which  seized  him 
as  for  the  first  time  he  saw  a  man  upon  whom  the  shadow 
of  death  had  already  fallen.  Once  or  twice  he  had  met 
Hallifield  in  the  passage  setting  off  to  his  work  in  the 
early  morning,  and  he  contrasted  his  recollection  of  the 
brisk,  fair-complexioned,  respectable  looking  conductor, 
and  this  man  propped  up  with  pillows,  his  face  drawn 
with  pain,  and  of  that  ghastly  ashen  hue  which  is  death's 
herald. 

"The  Norwegian  gentleman  is  here,  and  will  help  you 
into  the  kitchen,  John,"  said  the  wife,  beginning  to  swathe 
him  in  blankets. 

".Thank  you,  sir,"  said  the  man  gratefully.  "  It's  just 
a  fancy  I've  got  to  die  in  there  by  the  fire,  though  I  doubt 
I'll  never  get  warm  any  more." 

Frithiof  carried  him  in  gently  and  set  him  down  in  a 
cushioned  chair  drawn  close  to  the  fire  ;  he  seemed 
pleased  by  the  change  of  scene,  and  looked  round  the 
tidy  little  room  with  brightening  eyes. 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  3  o  I 

"It's  a  nice  little  place!"  he  said.  "I  wish  I  could 
think  you  would  keep  it  together,  Bessie,  but  with  the 
four  children  you'll  have  a  hard  struggle  to  live. " 

For  the  first  time  she  broke  down  and  hid  her  face  in 
her  apron.  A  look  of  keen  pain  passed  over  the  face  of 
the  dying  man,  he  clinched  and  unclinched  his  hands. 
But  Sigrid  who  was  rocking  the  baby  on  the  other  side  of 
the  hearth,  bent  forward  and  spoke  to  him  soothingly. 

"Don't  you  trouble  about  that  part  of  it,"  she  said. 
"We  will  be  her  friends.  Though  we  are  poor  yet  there 
are  many  ways  in  which  we  can  help  her,  and  I  know  a 
lady  who  will  never  let  her  want." 

He  thanked  her  with  a  gratitude  that  was  pathetic. 

"I'm  in  a  burial  club,"  he  said  after  a  pause,  stretching 
out  his  nerveless  fingers  toward  the  fire,  "she'll  have 
no  expenses  that  way;  they'll  bury  me  very  handsome, 
which'll  be  a  satisfaction  to  her,  poor  girl.  I've  often 
thought  of  it  when  I  saw  a  well-to-do  looking  funeral  pass 
alongside  the  tram,  but  I  never  thought  it  would  come  as 
soon  as  this.  I'm  only  going  in  thirty-five,  which  isn't 
no  great  age  for  a  man. " 

"The  work  was  too  much  for  you,"  said  Frithiof. 

"Yes,  sir,  it's  the  truth  you  speak,  and  there's  many 
another  in  the  same  boat  along  with  me.  It's  a  cruel 
hard  life.  But  then,  you  see,  I  was  making  my  four-and- 
six  a  day,  and  if  I  gave  up  I  knew  it  meant  starvation  for 
the  wife  and  the  children  ;  there  is  thousands  out  of  work, 
and  that  makes  a  man  think  twice  before  giving  in — spite 
of  the  long  hours." 

"And  he  did  get  six  shillings  a  day  at  one  time,''  said 
the  wife,  looking  up,  "but  the  company's  cruel  hard,  sir, 
and  just  because  he  had  a  twopence  in  his  money  and  no 
ticket  to  account  for  its  being  there  they  lowered  him 
down  to  four-and-six  again." 

"  Yes,  that  did  seem  to  me  hard,  I'll  not  deny,  I  swore 
a  bit  that  day,"  said  Hallifield.  "But  the  company  never 
treats  us  like  men,  it  treats  us  like  slaves.  They  might 
have  known  me  to  be  honest  and  careful,  but  it  seems  as 
if  they  downright  liked  to  catch  a  fellow  tripping,  and 
while  that's  so  there's  many  that'll  do  their  best  to  cheat." 

"But  is  nothing  being  done  to  shorten  the  hours,  to 
make  people  understand  how  frightful  they  are?  "  asked 
Sigrid. 

' '  Oh,  yes,  miss,  there's  Mrs.  Reaney  working  with  all 


302  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

her  might  for  us,"  said  Hallifield.  "But  you  see  folks  are 
hard  to  move,  and  if  we  had  only  the  dozen  hours  a  day 
that  we  ought  to  have  and  every  other  Sunday  at  home, 
why,  miss,  they'd  perhaps  not  get  nine  per  cent  on  their 
money  as  they  do  now." 

"They  are  no  better  than  murderers!"  said  Frithiof 
hotly. 

"  Well,"  said  Hallifield,  "so  it  has  seemed  to  me  some- 
times. But  I  never  set  up  to  know  much  ;  I've  had 
no  time  for  book-learning,  nor  for  religion  either,  barely 
time  for  eating  and  sleeping.  I  don't  think  God  Almighty 
will  be  hard  on  a  fellow  that  has  done  his  best  to  keep  his 
wife  and  children  in  comfort,  and  I'll  not  complain  if  only 
He'll  just  let  me  sit  still  and  do  nothing  for  a  bit,  for  I'm 
mortal  tired." 

He  had  been  talking  eagerly,  and  for  the  time  his 
strength  had  returned  to  him,  but  now  his  head  dropped 
forward,  and  his  hands  clutched  convulsively  at  the  blan- 
kets. 

With  a  great  cry  the  poor  wife  started  forward  and  flung 
her  arms  round  him. 

"  He's  going  !  "  she  sobbed.  "  He's  going  !  John — oh, 
John  ! " 

"Nine  per  cent  on  their  money  !"  thought  Frithiof. 
"  My  God  !  if  they  could  but  see  this  !  " 

By-and-bye,  when  he  had  done  all  that  he  could  to  help, 
he  went  back  to  his  own  room,  leaving  Sigrid  still  with 
the  poor  widow.  The  scene  had  made  a  deep  impression 
on  him,  he  had  never  before  seen  any  one  die,  and  the 
thought  of  poor  Hallifield's  pathetic  confession  that  he  had 
had  no  time  for  anything,  but  the  toil  of  living,  returned  to 
him  again  and  again. 

"That  is  a  death-bed  that  ought  not  to  have  been,"  he 
reflected.  "  It  came  from  the  hateful  struggle  for  wealth. 
Yet  the  shareholders  are  no  worse  than  the  rest  of  the 
world,  it  is  only  that  they  don't  think,  or  if  they  do  think 
for  a  time,  allow  themselves  to  be  persuaded  that  the 
complaints  are  exaggerated.  How  easily  men  let  them- 
selves be  hoodwinked  by  vague  statements  and  comfort- 
able assurances  when  they  want  to  be  persuaded,  when 
it  is  to  their  own  interest  to  let  things  go  on  as  before !  " 

And  then,  quite  unable  to  sleep,  he  lay  thinking  of  the 
great  problems  which  had  so  often  haunted  him,,  the  sharp 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  303 

contrasts  between  too  great  wealth  and  too  great  poverty, 
the  unequal  chances  in  life,  the  grinding  competition,  the 
ineffable  sadness  of  the  world.  But  his  thoughts  were  no 
longer  tainted  by  bitterness  and  despair,  because,  though 
he  could  not  see  a  purpose  in  all  the  great  mysteries  of 
life,  yet  he  trusted  one  who  had  a  purpose,  one  who  in 
the  end  must  overcome  all  evil,  and  he  knew  that  he  him- 
self was  bound  to  live  and  could  live  a  life  which  should 
help  toward  that  great  end. 

Three  days  later  poor  Hallifield's  "handsome  funeral" 
set  out  from  the  door  of  the  model  lodgings,  and  Frithiof 
who  had  given  up  his  half-holiday  to  go  down  to  the 
cemetery,  listened  to  the  words  of  the  beautiful  service, 
thinking  to  himself  how  improbable  it  was  that  the  tram- 
conductor  had  ever  had  the  chance  of  hearing  St.  Paul's 
teaching  on  the  resurrection. 

Was  there  not  something  wrong  in  a  system  which 
should  so  tire  out  a  man  that  the  summit  of  his  wishes  on 
his  dying  day  should  be  but  an  echo  of  the  overworked 
woman  whose  epitaph  ended  with — 

"  I'm  going  to  do  nothing  for  ever  and  ever  "  ? 

How  could  this  great  evil  of  the  overwork  of  the  many, 
and  the  too  great  leisure  of  the  few,  be  set  right?  A  so- 
cialism which  should  compulsorily  reduce  all  to  one  level 
would  be  worse  than  useless.  Love  of  freedom  was  too. 
thoroughly  ingrained  in  his  Norse  nature  to  tolerate  that 
idea  for  a  moment.  He  desired  certain  radical  reforms 
with  his  whole  heart,  but  he  saw  that  they  alone  would 
not  suffice — nothing  but  individual  love,  nothing  but  the 
consciousness  of  individual  responsibility  could  really  put 
an  end  to  the  misery  and  injustice  of  the  present  system. 
In  a  word,  the  only  true  remedy  was  the  life  of  Sonship. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

ONE  December  day  another  conclave  was  held  in  Mr. 
Boniface's  private  room.  Mr.  Boniface  himself  sat  with 
his  arm-chair  turned  round  toward  the  fire,  and  on  his 
pleasant,  genial  face  there  was  a  slight  cloud,  for  he  much 
disliked  the  prospect  of  the  discussion  before  him.  Mr. 


304  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

Horner  stood  with  his  back  to  the  mantelpiece,  looking 
even  more  pompous  and  conceited  than  usual,  and  Roy 
sat  at  the  writing-table,  listening  attentively  to  what 
passed,  and  relieving  his  feelings  by  savagely  digging  his 
pen  into  the  blotting-pad  to  the  great  detriment  of  its 
point. 

"It  is  high  time  we  came  to  an  understanding  on  this 
matter,"  Mr.  Horner  was  saying.  "  Do  you  fully  under- 
stand that  when  I  have  once  said  a  thing  I  keep  to  it? 
Either  that  Norwegian  must  go,  or  when  the  day  comes 
for  renewing  our  partnership  I  leave  this  place  never  to 
re-enter  it." 

"I  do  not  wish  to  have  any  quarrel  with  you  about  the 
matter,"  said  Mr.  Boniface.  "But  I  shall  certainly  not 
part  with  Falck.  To  send  him  away  now  would  be  most 
cruel  and  unjustifiable.'' 

"It  would  be  nothing  of  the  sort,"  retorted  Mr.  Horner 
hotly.  "It  would  be  merely  following  the  dictates  of 
common  sense  and  fairness." 

"This  is  precisely  the  point  on  which  you  and  I  do  not 
agree,"  said  Mr.  Boniface  with  dignity. 

"It  is  not  only  his  dishonesty  that  has  set  me  against 
him,"  continued  Mr.  Horner.  "  It  is  his  impertinent  in- 
difference, his  insufferable  manner  when  I  order  him  to 
do  anything." 

"I  have  never  myself  found  him  anything  but  a  perfect 
gentleman,"  said  Mr.  Boniface. 

"Gentleman  !  Oh  !  I've  no  patience  with  all  that  tom- 
foolery !  I  want  none  of  your  gentlemen  ;  I  want  a  shop- 
man who  knows  his  place  and  can  answer  with  proper 
deference. " 

"You  do  not  understand  the  Norse  nature,"  said  Roy. 
"Now  here  in  the  newspaper,  this  very  day,  is  a  good 
sample  of  it."  He  unfolded  the  morning  paper  eagerly 
and  read  them  the  following  lines,  taking  a  wicked  delight 
in  the  thought  of  how  it  would  strike  home  : 

"Their  noble  simplicity  and  freedom  of  manners  bear 
witness  that  they  have  never  submitted  to  the  yoke  of  a 
conqueror,  or  to  the  rod  of  a  petty  feudal  lord  ;  a  peasant- 
ry at  once  so  kind-hearted,  so  truly  humble  and  religious, 
and  yet  so  nobly  proud,  where  pride  is  a  virtue,  who  re- 
sent any  wanton  affront  to  their  honor  or  dignity.  As  an 
instance  of  this,  it*  may  be  mentioned  that  a  naturalist,  on 
finding  that  his  hired  peasant  companions  had  not  done 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  305 

their  work  of  dredging  to  his  satisfaction,  scolded  them  in 
violent  and  abusive  language.  The  m«en  did  not  seem  to 
take  the  slightest  notice  of  his  scolding.  '  How  can  you 
stand  there  so  stupidly  and  apathetically,  as  though  the 
matter  did  not  concern  you  ? '  said  he,  still  more  irritated. 
'  It  is  because  we  think,  sir,  that  such  language  is  only 
a  sign  of  bad  breeding,'  replied  an  unawed  son  of  the 
mountains,  wvom  even  poverty  could  not  strip  of  the  con- 
sciousness of  his  dignity." 

"You  insult  me  by  reading"  such  trash,"  said  Mr.  Hor- 
ner,  all  the  more  irritated  because  he  knew  that  Roy  had 
truth  on  his  side,  and  that  he  had  often  spoken  to  Frithiof 
abusively.  "But  if  you  like  to  keep  this  thief  in  your 
employ — " 

"  Excuse  me,  but  I  cannot  let  that  expression  pass," 
said  Mr.  Boniface.  "  No  one  having  the  slightest  knowl- 
edge of  Frithiof  Falck  could  believe  him  guilty  of  dis- 
honesty." 

"Well,  then,  this  lunatic  with  a  mania  for  taking  money 
that  belongs  to  other  people — this  son  of  a  bankrupt,  this 
designing  foreigner — if  you  insist  on  keeping  him  I  with- 
draw my  capital  and  retire.  I  am  aware  that  it  is  a  par- 
ticularly inconvenient  time  to  withdraw  money  from  the 
business,  but  that  is  your  affair.  *  As  you  have  brewed  so 
must  you  drink." " 

"  It  may  put  me  to  some  slight  inconvenience,"  said 
Mr.  Boniface.  "  But  as  far  as  I  am  concerned  I  shall 
gladly  submit  to  that  rather  than  go  against  my  conscience 
with  regard  to  Falck.  What  do  you  say,  Roy  ?  " 

"I  am  quite  atone  with  you  father,"  replied  Roy,  with 
a  keen  sense  of  enjoyment  in  the  thought  of  so  quietly 
baffling  James  Horner's  malicious  schemes. 

"This  designing  fellow  has  made  you  both  his  dupes," 
said  Mr.  Homer,  furiously.  "Some  day  you'll  repent  of 
this  and  see  that  I  was  right." 

No  one  replied,  and,  with  an  exclamation  of  impatient 
disgust,  James  Horner  took  up  his  hat  and  left  the  room, 
effectually  checkmated.  Frithiof,  happening  to  glance 
up  from  his  desk  as  the  angry  man  strode  through  the 
shop,  received  so  furious  a  glance  that  he  at  once  realized 
what  must  have  passed  in  the  private  room.  It  was  not, 
however,  until  closing  time  that  he  could  speak  alone 
with  Roy,  but  the  moment  they  were  out  in  the  street  he 
turned  to  him  with  an  eager  question, 

20 


306  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

"  What  happened  to  Mr.  Horner  to-day  ?  " 

"He  heard  a  discourse  on  the  Norwegian  character 
which  happened  to  be  in  the  'Daily  News,'  by  good 
luck,"  said  Roy,  smiling.  "  By-the-bye,  it  will  amuse  you, 
take  it  home." 

And,  drawing  the  folded  paper  from  his  coat-pocket,  he 
handed  it  to  Frithiof. 

"  He  gave  me  such  a  furious  glance  as  he  passed  by, 
that  I  was  sure  something  had  annoyed  him,"  said 
Frithiof. 

"Nevermind,  it  is  the  last  you  will  have  from  him," 
said  Roy,  rubbing  his  hands  with  satisfaction.  "He has 
vowed  that  he  will  never  darken  our  doors  again.  Think 
what  a  reign  of  peace  will  set  in." 

"  He  has  really  retired,  then  ?  "  said  Frithiof.  "  I  was 
afraid  it  must  be  so.  I  can't  stand  it,  Roy ;  I  can't  let 
you  make  such  a  sacrifice  for  me." 

"Sacrifice!  stuff  and  nonsense  !  "  said  Roy,  cheerfully. 
"I  have  not  felt  so  free  and  comfortable  for  an  age. 
We  shall  be  well  rid  of  the  old  bore." 

"But  his  capital?" 

"Goes  away  with  him,"  said  Roy;  "it  will  only  be  a 
slight  inconvenience,  probably  he  will  hurt  himself  far 
more  than  he  hurts  us,  and  serve  him  right,  too.  If  there's 
a  man  on  earth  I  detest  it  is  my  worthy  cousin  James 
Horner." 

Frithiof  naturally  shared  this  sentiment,  yet  still  he  felt 
very  sorry  that  Mr.  Horner  had  kept  his  word  and  left 
the  firm,  for  all  through  the  autumn  he  had  been  hoping 
that  he  might  relent  and  that  his  bark  would  prove  worse 
than  his  bite.  The  sense  of  being  under  such  a  deep 
obligation  to  the  Bonifaces  was  far  from  pleasant  to  him; 
however,  there  seemed  no  help  for  it,  and  he  could  only 
balance  it  against  the  great  relief  of  being  free  from 
James  Horner's  continual  provocations. 

Later  in  the  evening,  when  supper  was  over,  he  went 
round  to  see  Herr  Sivertsen  about  some  fresh  work,  and 
on  returning  to  the  model  lodgings  found  Swanhild  alone. 

"Where  is  Sigrid  ?  "  he  asked. 

"She  has  gone  in  to  see  the  Hallificlds,"  replied  the 
little  girl,  glancing  up  from  the  newspaper  which  she  was 
reading. 

"  You  look  like  the  picture  of  Mother  Hubbard's  dog, 
that  Lance  is  so  fond  of,"  he  said,  smiling.  "Your 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  307 

English  must  be  getting  on  or  you  wouldn't  care  for  the 
'Daily  News.'  Are  you  reading  the  praises  of  the 
Norse  character  ?  " 

As  he  spoke  he  leaned  over  her  shoulder  to  look  at  the 
letter  which  Roy  had  mentioned  ;  but  Swanhild  had 
turned  to  the  inner  sheet  and  was  deep  in  what  seemed 
to  -her  strangely  interesting  questions  and  answers  con- 
tinued down  three  columns.  A  hurried  glance  at  the 
beginning  showed  Frithiof  in  large  type  the  words, 
"THE  ROMIAUX  DIVORCE  CASE." 

He  tore  the  paper  away  from  her,  crushed  it  in  his 
hands,  and  threw  it  straight  into  the  fire.  Swanhild 
looked  up  in  sudden  panic,  terrified  beyond  measure  by 
his  white  face  and  flashing  eyes,  terrified  still  more  by 
the  unnatural  tone  in  his  voice  when  he  spoke. 

"You  are  never  to  read  such  things,"  he  said,  vehe- 
mently. "  Do  you  understand?  I  am  your  guardian  and 
I  forbid  you." 

"  It  was  only  that  I  wanted  to  know  about  Blanche," 
said  Swanhild,  conscious  that,  in  some  way  she  could  not 
explain,  he  was  unjust  to  her. 

But,  unluckily,  the  mention  of  Blanche's  name  was  just 
the  one  thing  that  Frithiof  could  not  bear,  he  lost  his  self- 
control.  "Don't  begin  to  argue,"  he  said,  fiercely.  "You 
ought  to  have  known  better  than  to  read  that  poisonous 
stuff !  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself !  " 

This  was  more  than  Swanhild  could  endure  ;  with  a 
sense  of  intolerable  injury  she  left  the  parlor,  locked 
herself  into  her  bedroom,  and  cried  as  if  her  heart  would 
break,  taking  good  care,  however,  to  stifle  her  sobs  in  the 
pillow,  since  she,  too,  had  her  full  share  of  the  national 
pride. 

"  It  is  ungenerous  of  him  to  hate  poor  Blanche  so,"  she 
thought  to  herself.  "Whatever  she  has  done  I  shall 
always  love  her — always.  And  he  had  no  right  to  speak 
so  to  me,  it  was  unfair — unfair  !  I  didn't  know  it  was 
wrong  to  read  the  paper.  Father  would  never  have 
scolded  me  for  it." 

And  in  this  she  was  quite  right ;  only  a  very  inex- 
perienced "guardian"  could  have  made  so  great  a 
mistake  as  to  reproach  her  and  hold  her  to  blame  for 
quite  innocently  touching  pitch.  Perhaps  even  Frithiof 
might  have  been  wiser  had  not  the  sudden  shock  and  the 
personal  pain  of  the  discovery  thrown  him  off  his  balance. 


308  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

When  Sigrid  returned  in  a  few  minutes  she  found  him 
pacing  the  room  as  restlessly  as  any  wild  beast  at  the  Zoo. 

"Frithiof,"  she  said,  "what  is  the  matter  with  you  ? 
Have  you  and  Herr  Sivertsen  had  a  quarrel  ?  " 

"The  matter  is  this, "he  said  hoarsely,  checking  his 
restlessness  with  an  effort  and  leaning  against  the 
mantelpiece  as  he  talked  to  her.  "I  came  back  just  now 
and  found  Swanhild  reading  the  newspaper — reading  the 
Romiaux  Divorce  Case,  thoroughly  fascinated  by  it  too." 

"  I  had  no  idea  it  had  begun,"  said  Sigrid.  "We  so 
seldom  see  an  English  paper,  how  did  this  one  happen 
to  be  lying  about  ?  " 

"Roy  gave  it  to  me  to  look  at  an  account  of  Norway ; 
I  didn't  know  this  was  in  it  too.  However,  I  gave 
Swanhild  a  scolding  that  she'll  not  soon  forget." 

Sigrid  looked  up  anxiously,  asking  what  he  had  said, 
and  listening  with  great  dissatisfaction  to  his  reply. 

"  You  did  very  wrong  indeed,"  she  said  warmly.  "  You 
forget  that  Swanhild  is  perfectly  innocent  and  ignorant, 
you  have  wronged  her  very  cruelly,  and  she  will  feel  that 
though  she  won't  understand  it.'' 

Now  Frithiof,  although  he  was  proud  and  hasty,  was 
neither  ungenerous  nor  conceited  ;  as  soon  as  he  had 
cooled  down  and  looked  at  the  question  from  this  point 
of  view,  he  saw  at  once  that  he  had  been  wrong. 

"I  will  go  to  her  and  beg  her  pardon,"  he  said  at 
length. 

"No,  no,  not  just  yet,"  said  Sigrid,  with  the  feeling 
that  men  were  too  clumsy  for  this  sort  of  work.  "  Leave 
her  to  me." 

She  rapped  softly  at  the  bedroom  door  and  after  a 
minute's  pause  heard  the  key  turned  in  the  lock.  When 
she  entered  the  room  was  quite  dark,  and  Swanhild,  with 
her  face  turned  away,  was  vigorously  washing  her  hands. 
Sigrid  began  to  hunt  for  some  imaginary  need  in  her  box, 
waiting  till  the  hands  were  dry  before  she  touched  on  the 
sore  subject.  But  presently  she  plunged  boldly  into  the 
heart  of  the  matter. 

"Swanhild,"  she  said,  "you  are  crying." 

"No,"  said  the  child,  driving  back  the  tears  that  started 
again  to  her  eyes  at  this  direct  assertion,  and  struggling 
hard  to  make  her  voice  cheerful. 

But  Sigrid  put  her  arm  round  her  waist  and  drew  her 
close. 


A  ftAKDY  NORSEMAN.  30$ 

"  Frithiof  told  me  all  about  it,  and  I  think  he  made  a 
great  mistake  in  scolding  you.  Don't  think  any  more 
about  it." 

But  this  was  more  than  human  nature  could  possibly 
promise ;  all  that  she  had  read  assumed  now  a  tenfold 
importance  to  the  child.  She  clung  to  Sigrid,  sobbing 
piteously. 

"  He  said  I  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  myself,  but  I  didn't 
know — I  really  didn't  know." 

"That  was  his  great  mistake,"  said  Sigrid  quietly. 
"  Now,  if  he  had  found  me  reading  that  report  he  might 
justly  have  reproached  me,  for  I  am  old  enough  to  know 
better.  You  see,  poor  Blanche  has  done  what  is  very 
wrong,  she  has  broken  her  promise  to  her  husband  and 
brought  misery  and  disgrace  on  all  who  belong  to  her. 
But  to  pry  into  all  the  details  of  such  sad  stories  does  out- 
siders a  great  deal  of  harm  ;  and  now  you  have  been  told 
that,  I  am  sure  you  will  never  want  to  read  them  again." 

This  speech  restored  poor  little  Swanhild's  self-respect, 
but  nevertheless  Sigrid  noticed  in  her  face  all  through  the 
evening  a  look  of  perplexity  which  made  her  quite 
wretched.  And  though  Frithiof  was  all  anxiety  to  make 
up  for  his  hasty  scolding,  the  look  still  remained,  nor  did 
it  pass  the  next  day  ;  even  the  excitement  of  dancing  the 
shawl  dance  with  all  the  pupils  looking  on,  did  not  drive 
it  away,  and  Sigrid  began  to  fear  that  the  affair  had  done 
the  child  serious  harm.  Her  practical,  unimaginative 
nature  could  not  altogether  understand  Swanhild's  dreamy, 
pensive  tendencies.  She  herself  loved  one  or  two  people 
heartily,  but  she  had  no  ideals,  nor  was  she  given  to 
hero-worship.  Swanhild's  extravagant  love  for  Blanche, 
a  love  so  ardent  and  devoted  that  it  had  lasted  more  than 
two  years  in  spite  of  every  discouragement,  was  to  her 
utterly  incomprehensible  ;  she  was  vexed  that  the  child 
should  spend  so  much  on  so  worthless  an  object,  it 
seemed  to  her  wrong  and  unnatural  that  the  love  of  that 
pure,  innocent  little  heart  should  be  lavished  on  such  a 
woman  as  Lady  Romiaux.  It  was  impossible  for  her  to 
see  how  even  this  childish  fancy  was  helping  to  mold 
Swanhild's  character  and  fit  her  for  her  work  in  the  world; 
still  more  impossible  that  she  should  guess  how  the  child's 
love  should  influence  Blanche  herself  and  change  the 
whole  current  of  many  lives. 


310  A  HA  RD  Y  NORSE  MA  M 

But  so  it  was  ;  and  while  the  daily  life  went  on  in  its 
usual  grooves — Frithiof  at  the  shop,  Sigrid  busy  with  the 
household  work,  playing  at  the  academy,  and  driving 
away  thoughts  of  Roy  with  the  cares  of  other  people — 
little  Swanhild  in  desperation  took  the  step  which  meant 
so  much  more  than  she  understood. 

It  was  Sunday  afternoon.  Frithiof  had  gone  for  a  walk 
with  Roy,  and  Sigrid  had  been  carried  off  by  Madame 
Lechertier  for  a  drive.  Swanhild  was  alone,  and  likely 
to  be  alone  for  some  time  to  come.  "It  is  now  or  never," 
she  thought  to  herself;  and  opening  her  desk,  she  drew 
from  it  a  letter  which  she  had  written  the  day  before,  and 
read  it  through  very  carefully.  It  ran  as  follows  : 

"DEAR  SIR. — It  says  in  your  prayer-book  that  if  any 
cannot  quiet  their  conscience,  but  require  comfort  and 
counsel,  they  may  come  to  any  discreet  and  learned  min- 
ister and  open  their  grief,  thus  avoiding  all  scruple  and 
doubtfulness.  I  am  a  Norwegian  ;  not  a  member  of  your 
church,  but  I  have  often  heard  you  preach ;  and  will  you 
please  let  me  speak  to  you,  for  I  am  in  a  great  trouble  ? 
"  I  am,  sir,  yours  very  truly, 

"  SWANHILD  FALCK." 

Feeling  tolerably  satisfied  with  this  production,  she  in- 
closed it  in  an  envelope,  directed  it  to  "The  Rev.  Charles 
Osmond,  Guilford  Square,"  put  on  her  little  black  fur  hat 
and  her  thick  jacket  and  fur  cape,  and  hurried  downstairs, 
leaving  the  key  with  the  door-keeper,  and  making  all  speed 
in  the  direction  of  Bloomsbury. 

Swanhild,  though  in  some  ways  childish,  as  is  usually 
the  case  with  the  youngest  of  the  family,  was  in  other  re- 
spects a  very  capable  little  woman.  She  had  been  treated 
with  respect  and  consideration,  after  the  Norwegian  cus- 
tom ;  she  had  been  consulted  in  the  affairs  of  the  little 
home  commonwealth  ;  'and  of  course  had  been  obliged  to 
go  to  and  from  school  alone  every  day,  so  she  did  not  feel 
uncomfortable  as  she  hastened  along  the  quiet  Sunday 
streets  ;  indeed,  her  mind  was  so  taken  up  with  the 
thought  of  the  coming  interview  that  she  scarcely  noticed 
the  passers-by,  and  only  paused  once,  when  a  little  doubt- 
ful whether  she  was  taking  the  nearest  way,  to  ask  the 
advice  of  a  policeman. 

At  length  she  reached  Guilford  Square,  and  her  heart 


A  HA  RD  y  NORSEMAN.  3 1 1 

began  to  beat  fast  and  her  color  to  rise.  All  was  very 
quiet  here ;  not  a  soul  was  stirring ;  a  moldy-looking 
statue  stood  beneath  the  trees  in  the  garden  ;  hospitals 
and  institutions  seemed  to  abound  ;  and  Mr.  Osmond's 
house  was  one  of  the  few  private  houses  still  left  in  what, 
eighty  years  ago,  had  been  a  fashionable  quarter. 

Swanhild  mounted  the  steps,  and  then,  overcome  with 
shyness,  very  nearly  turned  back  and  gave  up  her  project ; 
however,  though  shy  she  was  plucky,  and  making  a  val- 
iant effort,  she  rang  the  bell,  and  waited  trembling,  half 
with  fear,  half  with  excitement. 

The  maid-servant  who  opened  the  door  had  such  a  pleas- 
ant face  that  she  felt  a  little  reassured. 

"Is  Mr.  Osmond  at  home?  "  she  asked,  in  her  very  best 
English  accent. 

"Yes,  miss,"  said  the  servant. 

"Then  will  you  please  give  him  this,"  said  Swanhild, 
handing  in  the  neatly  written  letter.  "And  I  will  wait 
for  an  answer." 

She  was  shown  into  the  dining-room,  and  after  a  few 
minutes  the  servant  reappeared. 

"Mr.  Osmond  will  see  you  in  the  study,  miss,"  she 
said. 

And  Swanhild,  summoning  up  all  her  courage,  followed 
her  guide,  her  blue  eyes  very  wide  open,  her  cheeks  very 
rosy,  her  whole  expression  so  deprecating,  so  pathetic, 
that  the  veriest  ogre  could  not  have  found  it  in  his  heart 
to  be  severe  with  her.  She  glanced  up  quickly,  caught  a 
glimpse  of  a  comfortable  room,  a  blazing  fire,  and  a  tall 
white-haired,  white-bearded  man  who  stood  on  the  hearth- 
rug. A  look  of  astonishment  and  amusement  just  flitted 
over  his  face,  then  he  came  forward  to  meet  her,  and  took 
her  hand  in  his  so  kindly  that  Swanhild  forgot  all  her  fears, 
and  at  once  felt  at  home  with  him. 

"I  am  so  glad  to  see  you,"  he  said,  making  her  sit 
down  in  a  big  chair  by  the  fire.  "I  have  read  your  note, 
and  shall  be  very  glad  if  I  can  help  you  in  any  way. 
But  wait  a  minute.  Had  you  not  better  take  off  that  fur 
cape,  or  you  will  catch  cold  when  you  go  out  again  ?  " 

Swanhild  obediently  took  it  off. 

"I  didn't  know,"  she  said,  "  whether  you  heard  confes- 
sions or  not,  but  I  want  to  make  one  if  you  do." 

He  smiled  a  little,  but  quite  kindly. 

' '  Well,   in  the  ordinary  sense  I  do  not  hear  confes- 


312  A  tfARDY  NORSEMAN. 

sions,"  he  said.  "That  is  to  say,  I  think  the  habit  of 
coming  regularly  to  confession  is  a  bad  habit,  weakening 
to  the  conscience  and  character  of  the  one  who  confesses, 
and  liable  to  abuse  on  the  part  of  the  one  who  hears  the 
confession.  But  the  words  you  quoted  in  your  letter  are 
words  with  which  I  quite  agree,  and  if  you  have  any- 
thing weighing  on  your  mind  and  think  that  I  can  help 
you  I  am  quite  ready  to  listen." 

Swanhild  seemed  a  little  puzzled  by  the  very  home-like 
and  ordinary  appearance  of  the  study.  She  looked  round 
uneasily. 

"Well?  "said  Charles  Osmond,  seeing  her  bewildered 
look. 

"I  was  wondering  if  people  kneel  down  when  they 
come  to  confession, "  said  Swanhild,  with  a  simple  direct- 
ness which  charmed  him. 

'•'Kneel  down  to  talk  to  me  !  "  he  said,  with  a  smile  in 
his  eyes.  "  Why,  no,  my  child  ;  why  should  you  do  that? 
Sit  there  by  the  fire  and  get  warm,  and  try  to  make  me 
understand  clearly  what  is  your  difficulty." 

"It  is  just  this,"  said  Swanhald,  now  entirely  at  her 
ease.  "I  want  to  know  if  it  is  ever  right  to  break  a 
promise." 

"Certainly  it  is  sometimes  right,"  said  Charles  Osmond. 
"  For  instance,  if  you  were  to  promise  me  faithfully  to 
pick  some  one's  pocket  on  your  way  home,  you  would  be 
quite  right  to  break  a  promise  which  you  never  had  any 
right  to  make.  Or  if  I  were  to  say  to  you,  '  On  no  ac- 
count tell  any  one  at  your  home  that  you  have  been  here 
talking  to  me,'  and  you  agreed,  yet  such  a  promise  would 
rightly  be  broken,  because  no  outsider  has  any  right  to 
come  between  you  and  your  parents." 

"  My  father  and  mother  are  dead,"  said  Swanhild.  "I 
live  with  my  brother  and  sister,  who  are  much  older  than 
I  am — I  mean  really  very  old,  you  know — twenty-three. 
They  are  my  guardians  ;  and  what  troubles  me  is  that 
last  summer  I  did  something  and  promised  some  one  that 
I  would  never  tell  them,  and  now  I  am  afraid  I  ought  not 
to  have  done  it. " 

"What  makes  you  think  that?" 

"Well,  ever  since  then  there  has  seemed  to  be  a  differ- 
ence at  home,  and  though  I  thought  what  I  did  would 
help  Frithiof  and  Sigrid,  and  make  every  one  happier,  yet 
it  seems  to  have  somehow  brought  a  cloud  over  the  house, 


A  HARD  Y  NORSEMAN.  3 1 3 

They  have  not  spoken  to  me  about  it,  but  ever  since  then 
Frithiof  has  had  such  a  sad  look  in  his  eyes." 

"  Was  it  anything  wrong  that  you  promised  to  do — any- 
thing that  in  itself  was  wrong,  I  mean  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Swanhild  ;  "  the  only  thing  that  could 
have  made  it  wrong  was  my  doing  it  for  this  particular 
person." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  cannot  follow  you  unless  you  tell  me  a 
little  more  definitely.  To  whom  did  you  make  this  prom- 
ise ?  To  any  one  known  to  your  brother  and  sister  ?  " 

"Yes,  they  both  know  her  ;  we  knew  her  in  Norway, 
and  she  was  to  have  married  Frithiof ;  but  when  he  came 
over  to  England  he  found  her  just  going  to  be  married  to 
some  one  else.  I  think  it  was  that  which  changed  him 
so  very  much  ;  but  perhaps  it  was  partly  because  at  the 
same  time  we  lost  all  our  money." 

"  Do  your  brother  and  sister  still  meet  this  lady  ?" 

"  Oh,  no  ;  they  never  see  her  now,  and  never  speak  of 
her ;  Sigrid  is  so  very  angry  with  her  because  she  did  not 
treat  Frithiof  well.  But  I  can't  help  loving  her  still,  she, 
is  so  very  beautiful ;  and  I  think,  perhaps,  she  is  very 
sorry  that  she  was  so  unkind  to  Frithiof." 

"  How  did  you  come  across  her  again  ?  "  asked  Charles 
Osmond. 

"Quite  accidentally  in  the  street,  as  I  came  home  from 
school,"  said  Swanhild.  "She  asked  me  so  many  ques- 
tions and  seemed  so  sorry  to  know  that  we  were  so  very 
poor,  and  when  she  asked  me  to  do  this  thing  for  her  I 
only  thought  how  kind  she  was,  and  I  did  it,  and  promised 
that  I  would  never  tell." 

"She  had  no  right  to  make  you  promise  that,  for  probably 
your  brother  would  not  care  for  you  still  to  know  her,  and 
certainly  would  not  wish  to  be  under  any  obligation  to 
her. " 

"No;  that  was  the  reason  why  it  was  all  to  be  a 
secret,"  said  Swanhild.  "And  I  never  quite  understood 
that  it  was  wrong  till  the  other  day,  when  I  was  reading 
the  newspaper  about  her,  and  Frithiof  found  me  and  was 
so  very  angry,  and  threw  the  paper  in  the  fire." 

"  How  did  the  lady's  name  happen  to  be  in  the  paper? " 

"Sigrid  said  it  was  because  she  had  broken  her  promise 
to  her  husband  ;  it  was  written  in  very  big  letters — 'The 
Romiaux  Divorce  Case,'  "  said  Swanhild. 

Charles   Osmond  started.     For  some  minutes   he  was 


314  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

quite  silent.  Then,  his  eyes  falling  once  more  on  the 
wistful  little  face  that  was  trying  so  hard  to  read  his 
thoughts,  he  smiled  very  kindly. 

"  Do  you  know  where  Lady  Romiaux  is  living?"  he 
asked.  But  Swanhild  had  no  idea.  "  Well,  never  mind  ; 
I  think  I  can  easily  find  out,  for  I  happen  to  know  one 
of  the  barristers  who  was  defending  her.  You  had  better, 
I  think,  sit  down  at  my  desk  and  write  her  just  a  few 
lines,  asking  her  to  release  you  from  your  promise  ;  I 
will  take  it  to  her  at  once,  and  if  you  like  you  can  wait 
here  till  I  bring  you  back  the  answer." 

"  But  that  will  be  giving  you  so  much  trouble,"  said 
Swanhild,  "and  on  Sunday,  too,  when  you  have  so 
much  to  do." 

He  took  out  his  watch. 

"I  shall  have  plenty  of  time,"  he  said,  "and  if  I  am 
fortunate  enough  to  find  Lady  Romiaux,  you  shall  soon 
get  rid  of  your  trouble." 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

HAVING  established  Swanhild  at  the  writing-table, 
Charles  Osmond  left  her  for  a  few  minutes  and  went  up 
to  the  drawing-room  ;  it  was  one  of  those  comfortable, 
old-fashioned  rooms  which  one  seldom  sees  now,  and  rest- 
ing on  the  sofa  was  one  of  those  old-world  ladies  whose 
sweet  graciousness  has  such  a  charm  to  the  more  restless 
end  of  the  nineteenth  century.  No  less  than  four  gener- 
tions  were  represented  in  the  room,  for  by  the  fire  sat 
Charles  Osmond's  daughter-in-law,  and  on  her  knee  was 
her  baby  son — the  delight  of  the  whole  house. 

"Erica,"  he  said,  coming  toward  the  hearth,  "strangely 
enough  the  very  opportunity  I  wanted  has  come.  I  have 
been  asked  to  see  Lady  Romiaux  on  a  matter  connected 
with  some  one  who  once  knew  her,  so  you  see  it  is  pos- 
sible that  after  all  your  wish  may  come  true,  and  I  may 
be  of  some  use  to  her." 

Erica  looked  up  eagerly,  her  face  which  in  repose  was 
sad,  brightened  wonderfully. 

"  How  glad  I  am,  father  !  You  know  Donovan  always 
said  there  was  so  much  that  was  really  good  in  her,  if 
only  someone  could  draw  it  out." 

"  How  did  the  case  end?  "  asked  Mrs.  Osmond. 


A  HA  RD  Y  NORSEMA  tf.  315 

"It  ended  in  a  disagreement  of  the  jury,"  replied  her 
son.  "Why,  I  can't  understand,  for  the  evidence  was 
utterly  against  her,  according  to  Ferguson.  I  am  just  go- 
ing round  to  see  him  now,  and  find  out  her  address  from 
him,  and  in  the  meantime  there's  a  dear  little  Norwegian 
girl  in  my  study,  who  will  wait  till  I  bring  back  an 
answer.  Would  you  like  her  to  come  up  here  ? " 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  Erica,  "by  all  means  let  us  have  her 
if  she  can  talk  English.  Rae  is  waking  up,  you  see,  and 
we  will  come  down  and  fetch  her." 

Swanhild  had  just  finished  her  letter  when  the  door  of 
the  study  opened,  and  looking  up  she  saw  Charles 
Osmond  once  more,  and  beside  him  a  lady  who  seemed 
to  her  more  lovely  than  Blanche  ;  she  was  a  good  deal 
older  than  Lady  Romiaux  and  less  strikingly  beautiful, 
but  there  was  something  in  her  creamy-white  coloring 
and  short  auburn  hair,  something  in  the  mingled  sadness 
and  sweetness  of  her  face  that  took  Swanhild's  heart  by 
storm. 

"This  is  my  daughter-in-law,  Mrs.  Brian  Osmond,  and 
this  is  my  grandson,"  said  Charles  Osmond,  allowing 
Rae's  tiny  fingers  to  play  with  his  long  white  beard. 

"Will  you  come  upstairs  and  stay  with  us  till  Mr. 
Osmond  comes  back  ? "  said  Erica,  shaking  hands  with 
her,  and  wondering  not  a  little  what  connection  there 
could  be  between  this  fair-haired,  innocent  little  Norse 
girl  and  Lady  Romiaux.  And  then  seeing  that  Swanhild 
was  shy  she  kept  her  hand  in  hers  and  led  her  up  to  the 
drawing-room,  where,  with  the  baby  to  play  with,  she 
was  soon  perfectly  happy,  and  chattering  away  fast 
enough  to  the  great  amusement  of  old  Mrs.  Osmond, 
who  heard  the  whole  story  of  the  model  lodgings,  of  the 
dancing-classes,  and  of  the  old  home  in  Norway. 

In  the  meanwhile  Charles  Osmond  had  reached  his 
friend's  chambers,  and  to  his  great  satisfaction  found  him 
in. 

"As  far  as  I  know,"  replied  Mr.  Ferguson,  "Lady 
Romiaux  is  still  in  lodgings  in  George  Street."  He  drew 
a  card  from  his  pocket-book  and  handed  it  to  the  clergy- 
man. "  That's  the  number  ;  and  to  my  certain  knowl- 
edge she  was  there  yesterday.  Her  father  won't  have 
anything  to  do  with  her." 

"  Poor  child  !  "  said  Charles  Osmond,  half  to  himself, 
"  I  wonder  what  will  become  of  her?  " 


3i6  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

Mr.  Ferguson  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Well,  she's  brought  it  all  on  herself,"  he  said. 
"There  is  no  doubt  whatever  that  she  is  guilty,  and  how 
the  jury  disagreed  I'm  sure  I  don't  know." 

Charles  Osmond  did  not  stay  to  discuss  the  matter, 
but  made  the  best  of  his  way  to  George  Street,  and  sent 
in  his  card  with  a  request  that  Lady  Romiaux  would,  if 
possible,  see  him  on  a  matter  of  business. 

In  a  minute  or  two  he  was  ushered  into  a  drawing- 
room,  which  had  the  comfortless  air  of  most  lodging- 
house  rooms ;  standing  on  the  hearth-rug  was  a  young, 
delicate-looking  girl  ;  for  a  moment  he  did  not  re- 
cognize her  as  the  Lady  Romiaux  whose  portraits  were 
so  well  known,  for  trouble  had  sadly  spoiled  her  beauty, 
and  her  eyelids  were  red  and  swollen,  either  with  want 
of  sleep  or  with  many  tears. 

She  bowed,  then  meeting  his  kindly  eyes,  the  first  eyes 
she  had  seen  for  so  long  which  did  not  stare  at  her  in 
hateful  curiosity,  or  glance  at  her  with  shrinking  disap- 
proval, she  came  quickly  forward  and  put  her  hand  in 
his. 

"For  what  reason  can  you  have  come?"  she  ex- 
claimed; "you  of  all  men." 

He  was  struck  with  the  wild  look  in  her  great  dark 
eyes,  and  intuitively  knew  that  other  work  than  the  de- 
livery of  little  Swanhild's  letter  awaited  him  here. 

"Why  do  you  say,  'Of  all  men 'in  that  tone?  "he 
asked. 

"  Because  you  are  one  of  the  very  few  men  who  ever 
made  me  wish  to  do  right,"  she  said  quickly.  "  Because 
I  used  sometimes  to  come  to  your  church — till — till  I  did 
not  dare  to  come,  because  what  you  said  made  me  so 
miserable  !  " 

"My  poor  child,"  he  said:  "there  are  worse  things 
than  to  be  miserable  ;  you  are  miserable  now,  but  your 
very  misery  may  lead  you  to  peace." 

"No,  no,"  she  sobbed,  sinking  down  on  the  sofa  and 
hiding  her  face  in  her  hands.  "  My  life  is  over — there  is 
nothing  left  for  me.  And  yet,"  she  cried,  lifting  her  head 
and  turning  her  wild  eyes  toward  him,  "  yet  I  have  not 
the  courage  to  die,  even  though  my  life  is  a  misery  to  me 
and  a  snare  to  every  one  I  come  across." 

"  Are  you  alone  here  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes  ;  my  father  and  mother  will  have  nothing  to  say 


A  HARD  Y  NORSEMAN,  3 1 7 

to  me — and  there  is  no  one  else — I  mean  no  one  else 
that  I  would  have." 

He  breathed  more  freely. 

"You  must  not  say  your  life  is  over,"  he  replied. 
"Your  life  in  society  is  over,  it  is  true,  but  there  is  some- 
thing much  better  than  that  which  you  may  now 
begin.  Be  sure  that  if  you  wish  to  do  right  it  is  still  pos- 
sible for  you." 

"Ah,  but  I  can't  trust  myself,"  she  sobbed.  "It  will 
be  so  very  difficult  all  alone." 

"Leave  that  for  God  to  arrange,"  he  said.  "Your 
part  is  to  trust  to  Him  and  try  your  best  to  do  right. 
Tell  me,  do  you  not  know  my  friend  Donovan  Farrant, 
the  member  for  Greyshot  ?  " 

She  brushed  the  tears  from  her  eyes  and  looked  up 
more  quietly. 

"1  met  him  once  at  a  country  house  in  Mountshire," 
she  said.  "He  and  his  wife  were  there  just  for  two 
days,  and  they  were  so  good  to  me.  I  think  he  guessed 
that  I  was  in  danger  then,  for  one  day  he  walked  with 
me  in  the  grounds,  and  he  spoke  to  me  as  no  one  had 
ever  spoken  before.  He  saw  that  my  husband  and  I  had 
quarreled,  and  he  saw  that  I  was  flirting  out  of  spite 
with — with — well,  no  matter !  But  he  spoke  straight  out, 
so  that  if  it  hadn't  been  for  his  wonderful  tact  and  good- 
ness I  should  have  been  furious  with  him.  And  he  told 
me  how  the  thing  that  had  saved  him  all  through  his  life 
was  the  influence  of  good  women  ;  and  just  for  a  few 
days  I  did  want  to  be  good,  and  to  use  my  power  rightly. 
But  the  Farrants  went  away,  and  I  vexed  my  husband 
again  and  we  had  another  quarrel,  and  when  he  was 
gone  down  to  speak  at  Colonel  Adair's  election,  I  went 
to  stay,  against  his  wish,  at  Belcroft  Park  ;  and  when  I 
I  had  done  that,  it  seemed  as  if  I  were  running  right 
down  a  steep  hill  and  really  couldn't  stop  myself." 

"  But  now,"  said  Charles  Osmond,  "  you  must  begin 
to  climb  the  hill  once  more.  You  must  be  wondering 
though  all  this  time  what  was  the  errand  that  brought  me 
here.  I  brought  you  this  letter  from  a  little  Norwegian 

firl — Swanhild  Falck.     In  the  midst  of  your  great  trouble 
dare  say  her  trouble  will  seem  very  trifling,  still  I  hope 
you  will  be  able  to  release  her  from  her  promise,  for  it  is 
evidently  weighing  on  her  mind." 

"  That's  another  instance  c-f  the  harm  I  do  wherever  I 


3 1 8  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

go,"  said  poor  Blanche,  reading  the  letter,  "  and  in  this 
case  I  was  really  trying  to  undo  the  past,  very  foolishly 
as  I  see  now.  Tell  Swanhild  that  she  is  quite  free  from 
her  promise,  and  that  if  it  has  done  harm  I  am  sorry. 
But  I  always  do  harm  !  Do  you  remember  that  story 
of  Nathaniel  Hawthorne's  about  the  daughter  of  the 
botanist,  who  was  brought  up  on  the  juices  of  a  beautiful 
poison-plant,  and  who  poisoned  with  her  breath  every- 
one that  came  near  her?  I  think  I  am  like  that." 

"  I  remember  it,"  he  replied.  "  A  weird,  unwholesome 
story.  But  if  I  remember  right,  the  heroine  died  herself 
rather  than  poison  others." 

"Yes,  and  that  is  what  I  wish  to  do,"  she  said,  with 
once  more  that  look  in  her  eyes  which  had  startled  him. 
"But  I  am  a  coward ;  I  haven't  the  courage." 

"  Wait,"  he  said  gravely  ;  "there  is  a  real  truth  in  your 
idea,  but  do  not  set  about  it  in  a  wrong  way.  To  seek 
physical  death  would  only  be  to  take  another  wrong  step. 
It  is  not  you,  but  your  selfishness  that  must  die." 

"  But  if  I  were  not  what  you  would  call  selfish,  if  I  did 
not  love  to  attract  men  and  make  them  do  just  what  I 
please,  if  I  did  not  enjoy  the  feeling  that  they  are  in  love 
with  me,  I  should  no  longer  be  myself,"  she  said. 

"You  would  no  longer  be  your  false  self,"  he  replied. 
"You  would  be  your  true  self.  Do  you  think  God  made 
you  beautiful  that  you  might  be  a  snare  in  the  world? 
He  made  you  to  be  a  joy  and  a  blessing,  and  you  have 
abused  one  of  his  best  gifts." 

She  began  to  cry  again,  to  sob  piteously,  almost  like  a 
child. 

Charles  Osmond  spoke  once  more,  and  there  was  a  great 
tenderness  in  his  voice. 

"  You  have  found  now  that  self-pleasing  brings  misery 
to  yourself  and  every  one  else.  I  know  you  wish  to  do 
right,  but  you  must  do  more  than  that ;  you  must  resol- 
utely give  your  body,  soul,  and  spirit  to  God,  desiring  only 
to  do  his  will." 

She  looked  up  once  more,  speaking  with  the  vehemence 
of  despair. 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  "it  seems  all  real  now  while  I  talk  to 
you,  but  I  know  it  will  fade  away,  and  the  temptations 
will  be  much  more  strong.  You  don't  know  what  the 
world  is — you  are  good,  and  you  have  no  time  to  see  with 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  3 1 9 

your  own  eyes  how,  underneath  all  that  is  so  respectable, 
it  is  hollow  and  wicked." 

"  It  will  be  your  own  fault  if  you  are  not  stronger  than 
the  temptations  with  which  God  allows  you  to  be  assailed," 
he  said.  "You  loathe  and  fear  evil,  and  that  is  a  step  in 
the  right  direction,  but  now  you  must  turn  right  away 
from  it,  and  learn  to  look  at  purity,  and  goodness,  and 
love.  Don't  believe  that  vice  is  to  conquer — that  is  the 
devil's  lie.  The  strength  of  the  Infinite,  the  love  of  the 
All-Father  will  conquer — and  that  love  and  that  strength 
are  for  you." 

"What!"  sobbed  Blanche,  "for  a  woman  who  has 
dishonored  her  name — a  woman  cast  out  of  society  ?  " 

Charles  Osmond  took  her  hand  in  his  strong,  firm 
clasp. 

"  Yes,  my  child,"  he  said,  "they  are  for  you." 

There  was  a  long  silence. 

"And  now,"  he  said  at  length,  "  unless  you  have  any 
other  friends  to  whom  you  would  rather  go,  I  am  going 
to  ask  you  to  come  home  with  me.  I  can  promise  you 
at  least  rest  and  shelter,  and  a  welcome  from  my  dear  old 
mother,  who,  being  very  near  to  the  other  world,  does 
not  judge  people  after  the  custom  of  this  one." 

"  But,"  she  said,  with  a  look  of  mingled  relief  and  per- 
plexity, "how  can  I  let  you  do  so  much  for  a  mere  stran- 
ger? Oh,  I  should  like  to  come — but — but — " 

"You  are  no  longer  a  stranger, "he  replied.  "And 
you  must  not  refuse  me  this.  You  shall  see  no  one  at  all 
if  you  prefer  it.  Ours  is  a  busy  house,  but  in  some  ways 
it  is  the  quietest  house  in  London.  My  son  and  his  wife 
live  with  us.  They,  too,  will  be  so  glad  if  we  can  be  of 
any  use  to  you.  Come,  I  cannot  leave  you  here  in  this 
loneliness." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  I  am  to  come  now  ?  "  she  said,  start- 
ing up. 

"Yes,  if  you  will,"  he  replied.  "But  I  will  go  and 
call  a  hansom  ;  and  since  I  am  in  rather  a  hurry,  per- 
haps you  will  let  your  maid  follow  with  your  things  later 
on  in  the  evening." 

So  in  a  few  minutes  they  were  driving  together  to  Guil- 
ford  Square,  and  Blanche  was  transplanted  from  her  mis- 
erable loneliness  into  the  heart  of  one  of  the  happiest  homes 
in  the  country.  Leaving  her  in  the  study,  Charles  Os- 
mond went  in  search  <?f  Swanhild. 


320  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

"It  is  all  right,"  he  said,  handing  her  a  little  note  in 
Blanche's  writing  ;  and  while  the  child  eagerly  read  it  he 
turned  to  his  daughter-in-law. 

"  Will  you  tell  them  to  get  the  spare  room  ready,  Erica, 
dear?"  he  said.  "I  have  persuaded  Lady  Romiaux  to 
stay  with  us  for  a  little  while." 

Swanhild  caught  the  words,  and  longed  to  ask  to  see 
Blanche,  but  she  remembered  that  Sigrid  would  not  like 
it ;  and  then,  with  a  sudden  recollection  that  the  after- 
noon was  almost  over,  and  that  she  must  go  home,  she 
thanked  Charles  Osmond,  reluctantly  parted  with  the 
baby,  kissed  old  Mrs.  Osmond  and  Erica,  who  made  her 
promise  to  come  and  see  them  again,  and  hurried  back  to 
the  model  lodgings. 

Her  happiness  and  relief,  and  the  pleasurable  excite- 
ment of  having  learned  to  know  a  new  and  delightful 
family,  were  slightly  clouded  by  the  uncomfortable  thought 
of  the  confession  that  lay  before  her.  What  would  Frithiof 
and  Sigrid  say  to  her?  And  how  should  she  put  into 
words  the  story  of  what  she  more  and  more  felt  to  have 
been  a  wrong  and  foolish,  and  very  childish  scheme  of 
help  ? 

"Oh,  how  I  wish  it  were  over!"  she  thought  to  her- 
self, as  she  marched  on  to  her  disagreeable  work  like  a  little 
Trojan.  Big  Ben  was  striking  five  as  she  crossed  the 
court-yard.  She  had  been  away  from  home  more  than 
two  hours.  She  hurried  on  to  the  porter's  office,  and  asked 
breathlessly  for  the  key. 

"  Mr.  Falck  took  it  ten  minutes  ago,"  said  the  man. 

And  Swanhild  turned  away  with  a  sigh  and  a  little 
shiver,  and  began  very  slowly  to  mount  the  stone  stairs. 

"Oh  !  what  will  he  say  to  me?"  she  thought,  as  she 
clasped  Blanche's  note  fast  in  her  little  cold  hand. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

ALTHOUGH  she  had  climbed  the  stairs  so  slowly,  poor 
Swanhild  was  still  out  of  breath  when  she  reached  the 
door  leading  into  the  little  parlor  ;  she  paused  a  moment 
to  recover  herself,  and,  hearing  voices  within,  became  a 
degree  more  miserable,  for  she  had  counted  upon  finding 
Frithiof  alone.  Clearly  Sigrid  must  also  have  returned, 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  321 

and,  indeed,  things  were  even  worse  tnan  that,  for  as  she 
opened  the  door  and  emerged  round  the  Japanese  screen 
she  saw  Roy  standing  by  the  fire ;  for  this  she  had  been 
utterly  unprepared,  and,  indeed,  it  was  very  seldom  that 
he  came  now  to  the  model  lodgings. 

"At  last !  "  exclaimed  Frithiof,  "  why,  Swanhild,  where 
on  earth  have  you  been  to  ?  We  were  just  thinking  of 
having  you  cried." 

"  We  were  preparing  an  advertisement  to  appear  in  all 
the  papers  to-morrow  morning, "said  Roy,  laughing,  ''and 
were  just  trying  to  agree  as  to  the  description  ;  you'll 
hardly  believe  me,  but  your  guardian  hadn't  the  least 
notion  what  color  your  eyes  are." 

Frithiof  drew  her  toward  him,  smiling. 

"Let  me  see  now  in  case  she  is  ever  lost  again,"  he 
said,  but  noticing  a  suspicious  moisture  in  the  blue  eyes 
he  no  longer  teased  her,  but  made  her  sit  down  on  his 
knee  and  drew  off  her  gloves. 

"What  is  the  matter,  dear?"  he  said,  "you  look  cold 
and  tired  ;  where  have  you  been  to  ?  " 

"I  have  been  to  see  Mr.  Osmond,"  said  Swanhild, 
"  you  know  we  often  go  to  his  church,  Sigrid  and  I,  and 
there  was  something  I  wanted  to  ask  him  about.  Last 
summer  I  made  a  promise  which  I  think  was  wrong,  and 
I  wanted  to  know  whether  I  might  break  it." 

"What  did  he  say?"  asked  Frithiof,  while  Sigrid  and 
Roy  listened  in  silent  astonishment. 

"He  said  that  a  wrong  promise  ought  to  be  broken, 
and  he  managed  to  get  me  leave  to  speak  from  the  per- 
son to  whom  I  made  the  promise.  And  now  I  am  going 
to  tell  you  about  it." 

Frithiof  could  feel  how  the  poor  little  thing  was  trem- 
bling. 

"Don't  be  frightened,  darling,"  he  said,  "just  tell  us 
everything  and  no  one  shall  interrupt  you." 

She  gave  his  hand  a  grateful  little  squeeze  and  went  on. 

"  It  happened  just  after  we  had  come  back  from  the 
sea  last  June.  I  was  coming  home  from  school  on 
Saturday  morning  when,  just  outside  the  courtyard,  I 
met  Lady  Romiaux.  Just  for  a  moment  I  did  not  know 
her,  but  she  knew  me  directly,  and  stopped  me  and  said 
how  she  had  met  you  and  Sigrid  at  a  party  and  had  ever 
since  been  so  miserable  to  think  that  we  were  so  poor, 
and  somehow  she  had  found  out  our  address,  and  wanted 

21 


322  A  HARD  Y  NORSEMAN. 

to  know  all  about  us,  only  when  she  actually  got  to 
the  door  she  did  not  like  to  come  in.  And  she  said  she 
was  so  glad  to  see  me,  and  asked  all  sorts  of  questions, 
and  when  she  heard  that  you  meant  to  pay  off  the  debts 
she  looked  so  sad,  and  she  said  that  the  bankruptcy  was 
all  her  fault,  and  she  asked  how  much  I  thought  you  had 
got  toward  it,  and  seemed  quite  horrified  to  think  what  a 
little  it  was,  and  what  years  the  work  would  take.  And 
then  she  said  to  me  that  she  wanted  to  help,  too,  just  a 
little,  only  that  you  must  never  know,  and  she  thought 
I  could  easily  pay  in  a  five-pound  note  to  your  account 
at  the  bank,  she  said,  without  your  knowing  anything 
about  it.  She  made  me  promise  to  do  it  secretly,  and 
never  to  tell  that  it  was  from  her.  You  can't  think  how 
kindly  she  said  it  all,  and  how  dreadfully  sad  she  looked 
— I  don't  think  I  could  possibly  have  said  '  no '  to  her. 
But  afterward  I  began  to  see  that  I  couldn't  very  well 
pay  the  note  into  your  account  at  the  post-office,  for  I 
hadn't  got  your  little  book  that  you  always  take,  and 
besides  I  didn't  know  which  office  you  went  to.  So  I 
worried  about  it  all  the  next  day,  which  was  Sunday,  and 
in  the  evening  at  church  it  suddenly  came  into  my  head 
that  I  would  put  it  with  your  other  money  inside  your 
waistcoat  pocket"  Roy  made  an  involuntary  move- 
ment, Sigrid  drew  a  little  nearer,  but  Frithiof  never  stirred. 
Swanhild  continued:  "So  the  next  morning,  when  I 
I  went  into  your  bedroom  to  wake  you  up,  I  slipped  the 
note  into  your  pocket,  and  then  I  thought,  just  supposing 
you  were  to  lose  it,  it  seemed  so  light  and  so  thin,  and  I 
pinned  it  to  the  lining  to  make  it  quite  safe.  You  were 
sleeping  very  soundly,  and  were  quite  hard  to  wake  up. 
At  first  I  felt  pretty  happy  about  it,  and  I  thought  if  you 
asked  me  if  I  had  put  it  there  when  you  found  it  out  I 
should  be  able  to  say 'yes'  and  yet  to  keep  Blanche's 
secret.  But  you  never  said  a  word  about  it,  and  I  was 
sure  something  had  troubled  you  very  much,  and  I  was 
afraid  it  must  be  that,  yet  dared  not  speak  about  it,  and  I 
tried  to  find  out  from  Sigrid,  but  she  only  said  that  you 
had  many  troubles  which  I  was  too  young  to  understand. 
It  often  made  me  very  unhappy,  but  I  never  quite  under- 
stood that  I  had  done  wrong  till  the  night  you  found  me 
reading  the  paper,  and  then  I  thought  that  I  ought  not  to 
h:ive  made  the  promise  to  Lady  Romiaux.  This  is  the 
note  which  Mr.  Osmond  brought  me  from  her." 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  323 

Frithiof  took  the  little  crumpled  sheet  and  read  it. 

"  DEAR  SWANHILD — You  are  quite  free  to  speak  about 
that  five-pound  note,  I  never  ought  to  have  made  you 
promise  secrecy,  and,  indeed,  gave  the  money  just  by  a 
sudden  impulse.  It  was  a  foolish  thing  to  do,  as  I  see 
now,  but  I  meant  it  well.  I  hope  you  will  all  forgive 
me.  "Yours  affectionately, 

"BLANCHE." 

Then  Roy  and  Sigrid  read  the  note  together,  and  Roy 
grasped  Frithiofs  hand. 

"Will  you  ever  forgive  me?"  he  said.  "Cecil  was 
right,  and  I  ought  to  have  known  that  this  miserable 
affair  would  one  day  be  explained." 

Frithiof  still  looked  half  stunned,  he  could  not  realize 
that  the  cloud  had  at  last  dispersed,  he  was  so  taken  up 
with  the  thought  of  the  extraordinary  explanation  of  the 
mystery — of  the  childish,  silly  little  plan  that  had  brought 
about  such  strange  results. 

"Oh,  Swanhild ! "  cried  Sigrid,  "if  only  you  had 
spoken  sooner  how  much  pain  might  have  been  saved." 

"  Don't  say  that,"  said  Frithiof,  rousing  himself,  "  she 
has  chosen  the  right  time,  depend  upon  it.  I  can  hardly 
believe  it  all  yet.  But,  oh  !  to  think  of  having  one's 
honor  once  more  unstained — and  this  death  in  life  over  !  " 

"What  do  you  mean?  What  do  you  mean?"  sobbed 
poor  little  Swanhild,  utterly  perplexed  by  the  way  in 
which  her  confession  had  been  received. 

"  Tell  her,"  said  Sigrid,  glancing  at  Roy. 

So  he  told  her  exactly  what  had  happened  in  the  shop 
on  that  Monday  in  June. 

"  We  kept  it  from  you,"  said  Frithiof,  "because  I  liked 
to  feel  that  there  was  at  any  rate  one  person  unharmed 
by  my  disgrace,  and  because  you  seemed  so  young  to  be 
troubled  with  such  things." 

"But  how  can  it  have  happened?"  said  Swanhild; 
"  who  took  the  note  really  from  the  till  ? " 

"It  must  have  been  Darnell,"  said  Roy.  "He  was 
present  when  Sardoni  got  the  change,  he  saw  James 
Homer  put  away  the  note,  he  must  have  managed 
during  the  time  that  you  two  were  alone  in  the  shop 
to  take  it  out,  and  no  doubt  if  he  had  been  searched  first 
the  other  five-pound  note  would  have  been  found  on  him. 


324  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

What  a  blackguard  the  man  must  be  to  have  let  you 
suffer  for  him  !  I'll  have  the  truth  out  of  him  before  I'm 
a  day  older." 

"Oh!  Frithiof!  Frithiof!  I'm  so  dreadfully  sorry," 
sobbed  poor  Swanhild.  "I  thought  it  would  have  helped 
you,  and  it  has  done  nothing  but  harm." 

But  Frithiof  stooped  down  and  silenced  her  with  a  kiss. 
"You  see  the  harm  it  has  done,"  he  said,  "but  you  don't 
see  the  good.  Come,  stop  crying,  and  let  us  have  tea,  for 
your  news  has  given  me  an  appetite,  and  I'm  sure  you 
are  tired  and  hungry  after  all  this." 

"But  could  it  ever  have  entered  any  one's  head  that 
such  an  improbable  thing  should  actually  happen  ?  "  said 
Roy,  as  he  mused  over  the  story.  "To  think  that  Sar- 
doni  should  get  change  for  his  note,  and  Darnell  steal  it 
on  the  very  day  that  Swanhild  had  given  you  that  unlucky 
contribution  to  the  debt-fund  !  " 

"It  is  just  one  of  those  extraordinary  coincidences 
which  do  happen  in  life,"  said  Sigrid.  "I  believe  if 
every  one  could  be  induced  to  tell  all  the  strange  things 
of  the  kind  that  had  happened  we  should  see  that  they 
are  after  all  pretty  common  things." 

"  I  wonder  if  there  is  a  train  to  Plymouth  to-night  ?  "  said 
Roy.  "I  shall  not  rest  till  I  have  seen  Darnell.  For  noth- 
ing less  than  his  confession  signed  and  sealed  will  satisfy 
James  Homer.  Do  you  happen  to  have  a  Bradshaw  ?  " 

"  No,  but  we  have  something  better,"  said  Sigrid,  smil- 
ing ;  "on  the  next  landing  there  is  Owen,  one  of  the 
Great  Western  guards.  I  know  he  is  at  home,  for  I 
passed  him  just  now  on  the  stairs,  and  he  will  tell  you 
about  the  trains. " 

"What  a  thing  it  is  to  live  in  model  lodgings  !  "  said 
Roy,  smiling.  "You  seem  to  me  to  keep  all  the  pro- 
fessions on  the  premises.  Come,  Frithiof,  do  go  and  in- 
terview this  guard  and  ask  him  how  soon  I  can  get  down 
to  Plymouth  and  back  again." 

Frithiof  went  out,  there  was  still  a  strange  look  of 
abstraction  in  his  face.  "  I  scarcely  realized  before  how 
much  he  had  felt  this,"  said  Roy.  "  What  a  fool  I  was  to 
be  so  positive  that  my  own  view  of  the  case  was  right  ! 
Looking  at  it  from  my  own  point  of  view  I  couldn't  realize 
how  humiliating  it  must  all  have  been  to  him — how  ex- 
asperating to  know  that  you  were  in  the  right  yet  not  to 
be  able  to  convince  any  one." 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  325 

"It  has  been  like  a  great  weight  on  him  all  through 
the  autumn,"  said  Sigrid,  "  and  yet  I  know  what  he  meant 
when  he  told  Swanhild  that  it  had  done  him  good  as  well 
as  harm.  Don't  you  remember  how  at  one  time  he  cared 
for  nothing  but  clearing  off  the  debts  ?  Well,  now,  though 
he  works  hard  at  that,  yet  he  cares  for  other  people's 
troubles  too — that  is  no  longer  his  one  idea." 

And  then  because  she  knew  that  Roy  was  thinking  of 
the  hope  that  this  change  had  brought  into  their  lives,  and 
because  her  cheeks  grew  provokingly  hot,  she  talked  fast 
and  continuously,  afraid  to  face  her  own  thoughts,  yet  all 
the  time  conscious  of  such  happiness  as  she  had  not  known 
for  many  months. 

Before  long  Frithiof  returned. 

"I  don't  think  you  can  do  it,"  he  said.  "Owen  tells 
me  there  is  a  train  from  Paddington  at  9. 50  this  evening, 
but  it  isn't  a  direct  one,  and  you  won't  get  to  Plymouth 
till  9.28  to-morrow  morning.  A  most  unconscionable 
time,  you  see." 

"  Why  not  write  to  Darnell  ?  "  suggested  Sigrid. 

"  No,  no,  he  would  get  out  of  it  in  some  mean  way.  I 
intend  to  pounce  on  him  unexpectedly,  and  in  that  way 
to  get  at  the  truth,"  replied  Roy.  "  This  train  will  do 
very  well.  I  shall  sleep  on  the  way,  but  I  must  just  go 
to  Regent  Street  and  get  the  fellow's  address." 

This,  however,  Frithiof  was  able  to  tell  him,  and  they 
lingered  long  over  the  tea-table,  till  at  length  Roy  remem- 
bered that  it  might  be  as  well  to  see  his  father  and  let  him 
know  what  had  happened  before  starting  for  Devonshire. 
Very  reluctantly  he  left  the  little  parlor,  but  he  took  away 
with  him  the  grateful  pressure  of  Sigrid's  hand,  the  sweet, 
bright  glance  of  her  blue  eyes,  and  the  echo  of  her  last 
words,  spoken  softly  and  sweetly  in  her  native  language. 

"  Farvel !  Tak  skal  De  have."  (Farewell!  Thanks  you 
shall  have.)  Why  had  she  spoken  to  him  in  Norse? 
Was  it  perhaps  because  she  wished  him  to  feel  that  he 
was  no  foreigner  but  one  of  themselves  ?  Whatever  her 
reason,  it  touched  him  and  pleased  him  that  she  had 
spoken  just  in  that  way,  and  it  was  with  a  very  light 
heart  that  he  made  his  way  to  Rowan  Tree  House. 

The  lamp  was  not  lighted  in  the  drawing-room,  but 
there  was  a  blazing  fire,  and  on  the  hearth-rug  sat  Cecil 
with  Lance  nestled  close  to  her,  listening  with  all  his  ears 


326  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

to  one  of  the  hero  stories  which  she  always  told  him  on 
Sunday  evenings. 

"  Has  father  gone  to  chapel  ?  "  asked  Roy. 

4 '  Yes,  some  time  ago, ''  replied  Cecil.  ' '  Is  anything  the 
matter  ? " 

Something  told  her  that  Roy's  unexpected  appearance 
was  connected  with  Frithiof,  and,  accustomed  always  to 
fear  for  him,  her  heart  almost  stood  still." 

"Don't  look  so  frightened,"  said  Roy,  as  the  firelight 
showed  him  her  dilated  eyes.  "Nothing  is  the  matter — 
I  have  brought  home  some  very  good  news.  Frithiof  is 
cleared,  and  that  wretched  business  of  the  five-pound  note 
fully  explained." 

"At  last!"  she  exclaimed.  "What  a  relief!  But 
how?  Do  tell  me  all." 

He  repeated  Swanhild's  story,  and  then,  hoping  to 
catch  his  father  in  the  vestry  before  the  service  began, 
he  hurried  off,  leaving  Cecil  to  the  only  companionship 
she  could  have  borne  in  her  great  happiness — that  of  little 
Lance. 

But  Roy  found  himself  too  late  to  catch  his  father,  there 
was  nothing  for  it  but  to  wait,  and,  anxious  to  speak  to  him 
at  the  earliest  opportunity,  he  made  his  way  into  the  chapel 
that  he  might  get  hold  of  him  when  the  service  was  over, 
for  otherwise  there  was  no  saying  how  long  he  might  not 
linger  talking  with  the  other  deacons,  who  invariably 
wanted  to  ask  his  advice  about  a  hundred  and  one 
things. 

He  was  at  this  moment  giving  out  the  hymn,  and  Roy 
liked  to  hear  him  do  this  once  more  ;  it  carried  him  back 
to  his  boyhood — to  the  times  when  there  had  been  no 
difference  of  opinion  between  them.  He  sighed  just  a 
little,  for  there  is  a  sadness  in  all  division  because  it  re- 
minds us  that  we  are  still  in  the  days  of  school-time,  that 
life  is  as  yet  imperfect,  and  that  by  different  ways,  not  as 
we  should  wish  all  in  the  same  way,  we  are  being  trained 
and  fitted  for  a  perfect  unity  elsewhere. 

Mr.  Boniface  was  one  of  those  men  who  are  everywhere 
the  same,  he  carried  his  own  atmosphere  about  with  him, 
and  sitting  now  in  the  deacon's  seat  beneath  the  pulpit  he 
looked  precisely  as  he  did  in  his  home  or  in  his  shop.  It 
was  the  same  quiet  dignity,  that  was  noticeable  in  him, 
the  same  kindly  spirit,  the  same  delightful  freedom  from 
all  self-importance.  One  could  hardly  look  at  him  with' 


A  HARD  Y  NORSEMAN,  327 

out  remembering  the  fine  old  saying,  "A  Christian  is  God 
Almighty's  gentleman." 

When,  by-and-bye,  he  listened  to  Roy's  story,  told  graph- 
ically enough  as  they  walked  home  together,  his  regret 
for  having  misjudged  Frithiof  was  unbounded.  He  was 
almost  as  impatient  to  get  hold  of  Darnell  as  his  son  was. 

"Still, "he  observed,  "you  will  not  gain  much  by  going 
to-night,  why  not  start  to-morrow  by  the  first  train  ?  " 

"If  I  go  now, "said  Roy,  "  I  shall  be  home  quite  early 
to-morrow  evening,  and  Tuesday  is  Christmas  eve — a 
wretched  day  for  traveling.  Besides,  I  can't  wait." 

Both  father  and  mother  knew  well  enough  that  it  was 
the  thought  of  Sigrid  that  had  lent  him  wings,  and  Mr. 
Boniface  said  no  more,  only  stipulating  that  he  should  be 
just  and  generous  to  the  offender. 

"  Don't  visit  your  own  annoyance  on  him,  and  don't 
speak  too  hotly,"  he  said.  "Promise  him  that  he  shall 
not  be  prosecuted  or  robbed  of  his  character  if  only  he 
will  make  full  confession,  and  see  what  it  was  that  led 
him  to  do  such  a  thing.  I  c^n't  at  all  understand  it.  He 
always  seemed  to  me  a  most  steady,  respectable  man." 

Roy  being  young  and  having  suffered  severely  himself 
through  Darnell's  wrong-doing,  felt  anything  but  judicial 
as  he  traveled  westward  on  that  cold  December  night ;  he 
vowed  that  horse-whipping  would  be  too  good  for  such  a 
scoundrel,  and  rehearsed  interviews  in  which  his  attack 
was  brilliant  and  Darnell's  defense  most  feeble.  Then  he 
dozed  a  little,  dreamed  of  Sigrid,  woke  cold  and  depressed 
to  find  that  he  must  change  carriages  at  Bristol,  and  finally 
after  many  vicissitudes  was  landed  at  Plymouth  at  half- 
past  nine  on  a  damp  and  cheerless  winter  morning. 

Now  that  he  was  actually  there  he  began  to  dislike  the 
thought  of  the  work  before  him,  and  to  doubt  whether  after 
all  his  attack  would  be  as  brilliant  in  reality  as  in  imagina- 
ation.  Rather  dismally  he  made  a  hasty  breakfast  and 
then  set  off  through  the  wet,  dingy  streets  to  the  shop 
where  Darnell  was  at  present  employed.  To  his  relief 
he  found  that  it  was  not  a  very  large  one,  and,  on  enter- 
ing, discovered  the  man  he  sought,  behind  the  counter 
and  quite  alone.  As  he  approached  him  he  watched  his 
face  keenly  ;  Darnell  was  a  rather  good-looking  man,  dark, 
pale,  eminently  respectable ;  he  looked  up  civilly  at  the 
supposed  customer,  then,  catching  sight  of  Roy,  he  turned 
a  shade  paler  and  gave  an  involuntary  start  of  surprise, 


328  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

"  Mr.  Robert  !  "  he  stammered. 

"Yes,  Darnell ;  I  see  you  know  what  I  have  come  for," 
said  Roy  quietly.  "It  was  certainly  a  very  strange,  a 
most  extraordinary  coincidence  that  Mr.  Falck  should, 
unknown  to  himself,  have  had  another  five-pound  note  in 
his  pocket  that  day  last  June,  but  it  has  been  fully  ex- 
plained. Now  I  want  your  explanation. " 

"  Sir  !  "  gasped  Darnell ;  "  I  don't  understand  you  ;  I — I 
am  at  a  loss -" 

"Come,  don't  tell  any  more  lies  about  it,"  said  Roy 
impatiently.  "We  know  now  that  you  must  have  taken 
it,  for  no  one  else  was  present.  Only  confess  the  truth, 
and  you  shall  not  be  prosecuted ;  you  shall  not  lose  your 
situation  here.  What  induced  you  to  do  it  ?  " 

"  Don't  be  hard  on  me,  sir,"  stammered  the  man.  "I 
assure  you  I've  bitterly  regretted  it  many  a  time." 

"Then  why  did  you  not  make  a  clean  breast  of  it  to 
my  father?"  said  Roy.  "You  might  have  known  that 
he  would  never  be  hard  on  you." 

"  I  wish  I  had,"  said  Darnell,  in  great  distress  ;  "  I  wish 
to  God  I  had,  sir,  for  it's  been  a  miserable  business  from 
first  to  last.  But  I  was  in  debt,  and  there  was  nothing 
but  ruin  before  me,  and  I  thought  of  my  wife  who  was  ill, 
and  I  knew  that  the  disgrace  would  kill  her." 

"So  you  went  and  disgraced  yourself  still  more,"  said 
Roy  hotly.  "  You  tried  to  ruin  another  man  instead  of 
yourself. " 

"  But  he  wasn't  turned  off,"  said  Darnell.  "And  they 
put  it  all  on  his  illness,  and  it  seemed  as  if,  after  all,  it 
would  not  hurt  him  so  much.  It  was  a  great  temptation, 
and  when  I  had  once  given  way  to  it  there  seemed  no 
turning  back." 

"Tell  me  just  how  you  took  it,"  said  Roy,  getting 
rather  more  calm  and  judicial  in  his  manner. 

"  I  saw  Mr.  Horner  give  Signer  Sardoni  the  change, 
sir,  and  I  saw  him  put  the  note  in  the  till  ;  and  I  was  just 
desperate  with  being  in  debt  and  not  knowing  how  to  get 
straight  again." 

"  But  wait  a  minute — how  had  you  got  into  such  diffi- 
culties ?  "  interrupted  Roy.  ' '  And  how  could  a  five-pound 
note  help  you  out  again  ?  " 

"Well,  sir,  I  had  been  unlucky  in  a  betting  transaction, 
but  I  thought  I  could  right  myself  if  only  I  could  get 
something  to  try  again  with ;  but  there  wasn't  a  soul  I 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN:  329 

could  borrow  from.  I  thought  I  should  get  straight  again 
at  once  if  only  I  had  five  pounds  in  hand,  and  so  I  did, 
sir ;  I  was  on  my  feet  again  the  very  next  day." 

"I  might  have  known  it  was  betting  that  had  ruined 
you,"  said  Roy.  "Now  go  back  and  tell  me  when  you 
took  the  note." 

"I  kept  on  thinking  and  planning  through  the  afternoon, 
sir,  and  then,  presently,  all  was  quiet,  and  only  Mr.  Falck 
with  me  in  the  shop,  and  I  was  just  wondering  how  to 
get  rid  of  him,  when  Mr.  Homer  opened  the  door  of  Mr. 
Boniface's  room  and  called  to  me.  Then  I  said,  '  Do  go, 
Mr.  Falck,  for  I  have  an  order  to  write  to  catch  the  post.' 
And  he  went  for  me,  and  I  hurried  across  to  his  counter, 
while  he  was  gone,  and  took  the  note  out  of  the  till  and 
put  it  inside  my  boot  ;  and  when  he  came  back  he  found 
me  writing  at  my  desk  just  as  he  had  left  me.  He  came 
up  looking  a  little  put  out,  as  if  Mr.  Horner  had  rubbed 
him  the  wrong  way,  and  he  says  to  me,  '  It's  no  use  ;  you 
must  go  yourself,  after  all.'  So  I  went  to  Mr.  Horner 
leaving  Mr.  Falck  alone  in  the  shop." 

"Were  you  not  afraid  lest  he  should  open  the  till  and 
find  out  that  the  note  was  gone? " 

"Yes,  I  was  very  much  afraid.  But  all  went  well,  and 
I  intended  to  go  out  quickly  at  tea-time — it  was  close  up- 
on it  then — and  do  what  1  could  to  get  it  straight  again. 
I  thought  I  could  invent  an  excuse  for  not  returning  to 
the  shop  that  night ;  say  I'd  been  taken  suddenly  ill  or 
something  of  that  sort.  It  was  Mr.  Falck's  turn  to  go 
first ;  and  while  he  was  out,  as  ill-luck  would  have  it,  Mr. 
Horner  came  to  take  change  from  the  till,  and  then  all 
the  row  began.  I  made  sure  I  was  ruined,  and  no  one 
was  more  surprised  than  myself  at  the  turn  that  affairs 
took." 

"  But,  "exclaimed  Roy,  "when  you  were  once  more  out 
of  debt,  how  was  it  that  you  did  not  confess,  and  do  what 
you  could  to  make  up  for  your  shameful  conduct  ?" 

"Well,  sir,  I  hadn't  the  courage.  Sometimes  I  thought 
I  would  ;  and  then,  again,  I  could't  make  up  my  mind  to  ; 
and  I  got  to  hate  Mr.  Falck,  and  I  hated  him  more  be- 
cause he  behaved  well  about  it ;  and  I  got  into  the  way 
of  spiting  him  and  making  the  place  disagreeable  to  him  ; 
and  I  hoped  that  he  would  leave.  But  he  stuck  to  his 
post  through  it  all ;  and  I  began  to  think  it  would  be  safer 
that  I  should  leave,  for  I  felt  afraid  of  him  somehow.  So 


330  A  HARD  Y  NORSEMAN: 

at  Michaelmas  I  took  this  situation.  And  oh  !  sir,  for  my 
wife's  sake  don't  ruin  me ;  don't  expose  all  this  to  my 
employer  !  " 

"  I  promised  you  just  now  that  you  should  not  be  ex- 
posed ;  but  you  must  write  a  few  words  of  confession  to 
my  father  ;  and  be  quick  about  it,  for  I  want  to  catch  the 
express  to  London." 

Darnell,  who  was  still  pale  and  agitated,  seized  pen  and 
paper,  and  wrote  a  few  words  of  apology  and  a  clear 
confession.  To  write  was  hard,  but  he  was  in  such  terror 
lest  his  employers  should  return  and  discover  his  miser- 
able secret  that  he  dared  not  hesitate — dared  not  beat 
about  the  bush. 

Roy  watched  him  with  some  curiosity,  wondering  now 
that  he  had  not  suspected  the  man  sooner.  But,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  Darnell  had  been  perfectly  self-possessed 
until  his  guilt  was  discovered  ;  it  was  the  exposure  that 
filled  him  with  shame  and  confusion,  not  the  actual  dis- 
honesty. 

"I  don't  know  how  to  thank  you  enough,  sir,  for  your 
leniency,"  he  said,  when  he  had  written,  in  as  few  words 
as  possible,  the  statement  of  the  facts. 

"Well,  just  let  the  affair  be  a  lesson  to  you,"  said  Roy. 
"There's  a  great  deal  said  about  drunkenness  being  the 
national  sin,  but  I  believe  it  is  betting  that  is  at  the  root 
of  half  the  evils  of  the  day.  Fortunately,  things  are  now 
set  straight  as  far  as  maybe,  yet  remember  that  you  have 
wronged  and  perhaps  irrevocably  injured  a  perfectly  in- 
nocent man." 

"  I  bitterly  regret  it,  sir  ;  I  do,  indeed,"  said  Darnell. 

"I  hope  you  do,"  said  Roy;  "I  am  sure  you  ought 
tor." 

And  while  Darnell  still  reiterated  thanks,  and  apologies, 
and  abject  regrets,  Roy  stalked  out  of  the  shop  and  made 
his  way  back  to  the  station. 

"To  think  that  I  believed  in  that  cur,  and  doubted 
Falck !  "  he  said  to  himself  with  disgust.  "And  yet, 
could  any  one  have  seemed  more  respectable  than  Darnell  f 
more  thoroughly  trustworthy  ?  And  how  could  I  dis- 
believe the  evidence  that  was  so  dead  against  Frithiof  ? 
Sigrid  and  Cecil  trusted  him,  and  I  ought  to  have  done  so 
too,  I  suppose  ;  but  women  seem  to  me  to  have  a  faculty 
for  that  sort  of  thing  which  we  are  quite  without." 

Then,  after  a  time,  he  remembered  that  the  last  barrier 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  33 1 

that  parted  him  from  Sigrid  was  broken  down  ;  and  it  was 
just  as  well  that  he  had  the  railway  carriage  to  himself, 
for  he  began  to  sing  so  jubilantly  that  the  people  in  the 
next  compartment  took  him  for  a  school-boy  returning 
for  his  Christmas  holidays. 

It  had  been  arranged  that  if  he  could  catch  the  express 
from  Plymouth  he  should  meet  his  father  at  the  shop,  and 
arriving  at  Paddington  at  half-past  six  he  sprang  into  a 
hansom  and  drove  as  quickly  as  possible  to  Regent 
Street. 

Frithiof  just  glanced  at  him  inquiringly  as  he  passed 
through  the  shop,  then,  reassured  by  the  expression  of 
his  face,  turned  once  more  to  the  fidgety  and  impatient 
singing-master  who,  for  the  last  quarter  of  an  hour,  had 
been  keeping  him  hard  at  work  in  hunting  up  every  con- 
ceivable song  that  was  difficult  to  find,  and  which,  when 
found,  was  sure  to  prove  unsatisfactory. 

He  wondered  much  what  had  passed  at  Plymouth,  and 
when  at  last  he  had  got  rid  of  his  customer,  Roy  returned 
to  the  shop  with  such  evident  excitement  and  triumph  in 
his  manner  that  old  Foster  thought  he  must  be  taking 
leave  of  his  senses. 

"  My  father  wants  to  speak  to  you,  Frithiof,"  he  said. 

And  Frithiof  followed  him  into  the  little  inner  room 
which  had  been  the  scene  of  such  disagreeable  interviews 
in  the  past.  A  strange,  dreamlike  feeling  came  over  him 
as  he  recalled  the  wretched  summer  day  when  the  de- 
tective had  searched  him,  and  in  horrible,  bewildered 
misery  he  had  seen  the  five-pound  note,  lying  on  that 
same  leather-covered  table,  an  inexplicable  mystery  and 
a  damning  evidence  against  him. 

But  visions  of  the  past  faded  as  Mr.  Boniface  grasped 
his  hand.  "How  can  I  ever  apologize  enough  to  you, 
Frithiof !"  he  said.  "Roy  has  brought  back  a  full  con- 
fession from  Darnell,  and  the  mystery  in  entirely  cleared 
up.  You  must  forgive  me  for  the  explanation  of  the  affair 
that  I  was  content  with  last  summer — I  can't  tell  you  how 
I  regret  all  that  you  have  had  to  suffer." 

"  Here  is  Darnell's  letter,"  said  Roy,  handing  it  to  him. 

And  Frithiof  read  it  eagerly,  and  asked  the  details  of 
his  friend's  visit  to  Plymouth. 

"  Will  this  satisfy  Mr.  Horner,  do  you  think  ? "  he  said, 
when  Roy  had  told  him  all  about  his  interview  with 
Darnell." 


332  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

"  It  cannot  fail  to  convince  every  one,"  said  Mr.  Boni- 
face. "It  is  proof  positive  that  you  are  free  from  all 
blame  and  that  we  owe  you  every  possible  apology  and 
reparation." 

"You  think  that  Mr.  Horner  will  be  content,  and  will 
really  sign  the  fresh  deed  of  partnership  ? "  said  Frithiof. 

"  He  will  be  forced  to  see  that  your  honor  is  entirely 
vindicated,"  said  Mr.  Boniface.  "  But  I  shall  not  renew 
the  offer  of  partnership  to  him.  He  has  behaved  very  ill 
to  you,  he  has  been  insolent  to  me,  and  I  am  glad,  that 
as  far  as  business  goes,  our  connection  is  at  an  end.  All 
that  is  quite  settled.  And  now  we  have  a  proposal  to 
make  to  you.  We  want  you,  if  nothing  better  has  turned 
up,  to  accept  a  junior  partnership  in  our  firm." 

Frithiof  was  so  staggered  by  the  unexpectedness  of  this 
offer  that  for  a  moment  or  two  he  could  not  say  a  word. 

"  You  are  very  good,"  he  said  at  length.  "  Far,  far,  too 
good  and  kind  to  me.  But  how  can  I  let  you  do  so  much 
for  me — how  can  I  let  you  take  as  partner  a  man  who  has 
no  capital  to  bring  into  the  business  ?  " 

"My  dear  boy,  money  is  not  the  only  thing  wanted  in 
business,"  said  Mr.  Boniface,  laying  his  hand  on  Frithiof s 
shoulders.  "  If  you  bring  no  capital  with  you  you  bring 
good  abilities,  a  great  capacity  for  hard  work,  an~  a  high 
sense  of  honor  ;  you  will  bring  too,  what  I  value  very 
much — a  keen  sympathy  with  those  employed  by  you, 
and  a  real  knowledge  of  their  position  and  its  diffi- 
culties." 

"  I  dare  not  refuse  your  offer,"  said  Frithiof.  "  I  can't 
do  anything  but  gratefully  accept  it,  but  I  have  done  noth- 
ing to  deserve  such  kindness  from  you." 

"It  will  be  a  comfort  to  me,"  said  Mr.  Boniface,  "to 
feel  that  Roy  has  some  one  with  whom  he  can  work  com- 
fortably. I  am  growing  old,  and  shall  not  be  sorry  to  do 
a  little  less,  and  to  put  some  of  my  burden  on  to  younger 
shoulders. " 

And  then,  after  entering  a  little  more  into  detail  as  to 
the  proposed  plan,  the  three  parted,  and  Frithiof  hurried 
home,  eager  to  tell  Sigrid  and  Swanhild  of  the  great  change 
that  had  come  over  their  affairs. 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  333 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

CHEERFULNESS  reigned  once  more  in  the  model  lodgings. 
As  Frithiof  opened  the  door  of  the  parlor  he  heard  such 
talking  and  laughter  as  there  had  not  been  for  some  time 
past,  despite  Sigrid's  laudable  endeavors.  Swanhildcame 
dancing  to  meet  him. 

"Look!  look!"  she  cried,  "we  have  got  the  very 
dearest  little  Christmas  tree  that  ever  was  seen.  And 
Madame  Lechertier  has  promised  to  come  to  tea  to-mor- 
row afternoon,  and  we  are  going  out  presently  to  buy  the 
candles  for  it." 

"Unheard-of  extravagance,"  he  said,  looking  at  the 
little  fir  tree  upon  which  Sigrid  was  fastening  the  candle- 
holders. 

"Only  a  shilling,"  she  said  apologetically.  "And  this 
year  we  really  couldn't  do  without  one.  But  you  have 
brought  some  good  news — I  can  see  it  in  your  face. 
Oh,  tell  me,  Frithiof — tell  me  quickly  just  what  happened." 

"Well,  Darnell  has  made  a  full  confession  for  one 
thing,"  he  replied.  "So  the  last  vestige  of  the  cloud  has 
disappeared.  You  can't  think  how  nice  the  other  men 
were  when  they  heard  about  it.  Old  Foster  gave  me 
such  a  hand-shake  that  my  arm  aches  still." 

"And  Mr.  Boniface?" 

"  You  can  fancy  just  what  he  would  be  as  far  as  kind- 
ness and  all  that  goes.  But  you  will  never  guess  what 
he  has  done.  How  would  you  like  to  count  our  savings 
toward  the  debt-fund  by  hundreds  instead  of  by  units  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  cried. 

"I  mean  that  he  has  offered  me  the  junior  partner- 
ship," said  Frithiof,  watching  her  face  with  keen  delight, 
and  rewarded  for  all  he  had  been  through  by  her  rapture 
of  happiness  and  her  glad  surprise. 

As  for  Swanhild,  in  the  reaction  after  the  long  strain  of 
secret  anxiety  which  had  tried  her  so  much  all  the  autumn, 
she  was  like  a  wild  thing  ;  she  laughed  and  sang,  danced 
and  chattered,  and  would  certainly  never  have  eaten  any 
supper  had  she  not  set  her  heart  on  going  out  to  buy 
Christmas  presents  at  a  certain  shop  in  Buckingham  Palace 
Road,  which  she  was  sure  would  still  be  open. 


334  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

"  For  it  is  just  the  sort  of  shop  for  people  like  us,"  she 
explained,  "people  who  are  busy  all  day  and  can  only  do 
their  shopping  in  the  evening." 

So  presently  they  locked  up  the  rooms  and  all  three 
went  out  together,  on  the  merriest  shopping  expedition 
that  ever  was  known.  There  was  a  feeling  of  yule  tide 
in  the  very  air,  and  the  contentment  and  relief  in  their 
own  hearts  seemed  to  be  reflected  on  every  one  with 
whom  they  came  in  contact.  The  shops  seemed  more 
enticing  than  usual,  the  presents  more  fascinating,  the 
servers  more  obliging  and  ready  to  enter  into  the  spirit  of 
the  thing.  Swanhild,  with  five  shillings  of  her  own 
earning  to  lay  out  on  Christmas  gifts,  was  in  the  seventh 
heaven  of  happiness ;  Sigrid,  with  her  own  secret  now 
once  more  a  joy  and  not  a  care,  moved  like  one  in  a 
happy  dream ;  while  Frithiof,  free  from  the  miserable 
cloud  of  suspicion,  freed,  moreover,  by  all  that  he  had 
lived  through  from  the  hopelessness  of  the  struggle,  was 
the  most  perfectly  happy  of  all.  Sometimes  he  forced  him- 
self to  remember  that  it  was  through  these  very  streets 
that  he  had  wandered  in  utter  misery  when  he  first  came 
to  London  ;  and  recollecting  from  what  depths  Sigrid  had 
saved  him,  he  thought  of  her  with  a  new  and t strange 
reverence — there  was  nothing  he  would  not  have  done 
for  her. 

His  reflections  were  interrupted  by  Swanhild's  voice. 

"We  will  have  every  one  from  Rowan  Tree  House, 
won't  we  ?  "  she  said. 

"And  Herr  Sivertsen,"  added  Sigrid.  "He  must  cer- 
tainly come,  because  he  is  all  alone." 

"And  whatever  happens,  we  must  have  old  Miss 
Charlotte,"  said  Frithiof ;  "but  it  strikes  me  we  shall  have 
to  ask  people  to  bring  their  own  mugs,  like  children  at  a 
school-treat." 

But  Sigrid  scouted  this  suggestion,  and  declared  that 
the  blue  and  white  china  would  just  go  round,  while,  as 
to  chairs,  they  could  borrow  two  or  three  from  the 
neighbors. 

Then  came  the  return  home,  and  the  dressing  of  the 
tree,  amid  much  fun  and  laughter,  and  the  writing  of  the 
invitations,  which  must  be  posted  that  night.  In  all 
London  there  could  not  have  been  found  a  merrier  house- 
hold. All  the  past  cares  were  forgotten  ;  even  the  sorrows 
which  could  not  be  healed  had  lost  their  sting,  and  the 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  335 

Christmas  promised  to  be  indeed  full  of  peace  and  good- 
will. 

How  ten  people — to  say  nothing  of  Lance  and  Gwen— • 
managed  to  stow  themselves  away  in  the  little  parlor 
was  a  mystery  to  Frithiof.  But  Sigrid  was  a  person  of 
resources,  and  while  he  was  out  the  next  day  she  made 
all  sorts  of  cunning  arrangements,  decorated  the  room 
with  ivy  and  holly,  and  so  disposed  the  furniture  that 
there  was  a  place  for  every  one. 

At  half-past  four  the  guests  began  to  arrive.  First  Mrs. 
Boniface  and  Cecil  with  the  children,  who  helped  to  light 
the  tree  ;  then  Madame  Lechertier,  laden  with  boxes  of  the 
most  delicious  bonbons  for  every  one  of  the  party,  and 
soon  after  there  came  an  abrupt  knock,  which  they  felt 
sure  could  only  have  been  given  by  Herr  Sivertsen. 
Swanhild  ran  to  open  the  door,  and  to  take  his  hat  and 
coat  fron>.  him.  Her  eager  welcome  seemed  to  please  the 
old  man,  for  his  great  massive  forehead  was  unusually 
free  from  wrinkles  as  he  entered  and  shook  hands  with 
Sigrid,  /-Hid  he  bowed  and  smiled  quite  graciously  as  she 
introduced  him  to  the  other  guests.  Then  he  walked 
round  the  Christmas  tree  with  an  air  of  satisfaction,  and 
even  stooped  forward  and  smelled  it. 

"So,"  he  said  contentedly,  "you  keep  up  the  old  cus- 
toms, I  see  !  I'm  glad  of  it — I'm  glad  of  it.  It's  years  since 
I  saw  a  properly  dressed  tree.  And  the  smell  of  it !  Great 
heavens  !  it  makes  me  feel  Jike  a  boy  again  !  I'm  glad 
you  don't  follow  with  the  multitude,  but  keep  to  the  good 
old  Yule  ceremonies." 

In  the  meantime  Cecil  was  pouring  out  tea  and  coffee 
in  the  kitchen,  where,  for  greater  convenience,  the  table 
had  been  placed. 

"  Sigrid  has  allowed  me  to  be  lady-help  and  not  visitor," 
she  said  laughingly  to  Frithiof.  "  I  told  her  she  must  be 
in  the  other  room  to  talk  to  every  one  after  the  English 
fashion,  for  you  and  Swanhild  will  be  too  busy  fetching 
and  carrying." 

"I  am  glad  to  have  a  chance  of  saying  one  word  alone 
to  you,"  said  Frithiof.  "  Are  you  sure  that  Mrs.  Boniface 
does  not  object  to  this  new  plan  as  to  the  partnership? " 

"Why,  she  is  delighted  about  it,"  said  Cecil.  "And 
she  will  tell  you  so  when  she  has  you  to  herself.  I  am 
so  glad— so  very  glad  that  your  trouble  is  over  at  last, 
and  everything  cleared  up. " 


336  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

"I  can  hardly  believe  it  yet,"  said  Frithiof.  •  "I'm 
afraid  of  waking  and  finding  that  all  this  is  a  dream.  Yet 
it  feels  real  while  I  talk  to  you,  for  you  were  the  only 
outsider  who  believed  in  me  and  cheered  me  up  last 
summer.  I  shall  never  forget  your  trust  in  me." 

Her  eyes  sank  beneath  his  frank  look  of  gratitude. 
She  was  horribly  afraid  lest  she  should  betray  herself,  and 
to  hide  the  burning  color  which  surged  up  into  her  face, 
she  turned  away  and  busied  herself  with  the  teapot, 
which  did  not  at  all  want  refilling. 

"You  have  forgotten  Signer  Donati,"she  said,  recover- 
ing her  self-possession. 

"Ah!  I  must  write  to  him,"  said  Frithiof.  "I  more 
and  more  wonder  how  he  could  possibly  have  had  such 
insight  into  the  truth.  Here  come  Mr.  Boniface  and  Roy." 

He  returned  to  the  parlor,  while  Cecil  from  the  back- 
ground watched  the  greetings  with  some  curiosity.  In 
honor  of  Herr  Sivertsen,  and  to  please  Frithiof,  both 
Sigrid  and  Swanhild  wore  their  Hardanger  peasant  dress, 
and  Cecil  thought  she  had  never  seen  Sigrid  look  prettier 
than  now,  as  she  shook  hands  with  Roy,  welcoming  him 
with  all  the  charm  of  manner,  with  all  the  vivacity 
which  was  characteristic  of  her. 

"Tea  for  Mr.  Boniface,  and  coffee  for  Roy,"  an- 
nounced Swanhild,  dancing  in.  "Lance,  you  can  hand 
the  crumpets,  and  mind  you  don't  drop  them  all." 

She  pioneered  him  safely  through  the  little  crowd,  and 
Frithiof  returned  to  Cecil.  They  had  a  comfortable  little 
t£te-&-iete  over  the  tea-table. 

"I  dare  to  think  now,"  he  said,  "  of  the  actual  amount 
of  the  debts,  for  at  last  there  is  a  certainty  that  in  time  I 
can  pay  them." 

"How  glad  I  am  !"  said  Cecil.  "It  will  be  a  great 
relief  to  you." 

"  Yes,  it  will  be  like  getting  rid  of  a  haunting  demon," 
said  Frithiof.  "And  to  see  a  real  prospect  of  being  free 
once  more  is  enough  to  make  this  the  happiest  Christmas 
I  have  ever  known — to  say  nothing  of  getting  rid  of  the 
other  cloud.  I  sometimes  wonder  what  would  have  be- 
come of  me  if  I  had  never  met  you  and  your  brother." 

"  If  you  had  never  sheltered  us  from  the  rain  in  your 
house,"  she  said  smiling. 

"It  is  in  some  ways  dreadful  to  see  how  much  de- 
pends on  quite  a  small  thing,"  said  Frithiof  thoughtfully. 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  337 

And  perhaps,  could  he  have  seen  into  Cecil's  heart,  he 
would  have  been  more  than  ever  impressed  with  this  idea. 

Before  long-  they  rejoined  the  rest  of  the  party,  and 
then,  all  standing  round  the  tree,  they  sang  Glddelig  Jul, 
and  an  English  carol,  after  which  the  presents  were  dis- 
tributed, amid  much  laughter  and  quite  a  babel  of  talk. 
The  whole  entertainment  had  been  given  for  a  few  shil- 
lings, but  it  was  probably  one  of  the  most  successful 
parties  of  the  season,  for  all  seemed  full  of  real  enjoy- 
ment, and  all  were  ready  to  echo  Lance's  outspoken  ver- 
dict, that  Christmas  trees  in  model  lodgings  were  much 
nicer  than  anywhere  else. 

"But  it  isn't  fair  that  the  model  lodgings  should  have 
both  Christmas  Eve  and  Christmas  Day,"  said  Mrs.  Boni- 
face, "so  you  will  come  down  to  Rowan  Tree  House 
this  evening,  and  stay  with  us  for  a  few  days,  will  you  not  ?  " 

There  was  no  resisting  the  general  entreaty,  and  indeed, 
now  that  all  was  cleared  up,  Frithiof  looked  forward  very 
much  to  staying  once  more  in  the  household  which  had 
grown  so  homelike  to  him.  It  was  arranged  that  they 
should  go  down  to  Brixton  later  in  the  evening  ;  and 
when  their  guests  had  left,  Sigrid  began,  a  little  sadly,  to 
make  the  necessary  preparations.  She  was  eager  to  go, 
and  yet  something  told  her  that  never  again,  under  the 
same  circumstances,  would  the  little  household  be  under 
her  care. 

"I  will  take  in  the  tree  to  the  Hallifields, "  she  said; 
"  the  children  will  be  pleased  with  it.  And,  Frithiof, 
don't  you  think  that  before  we  leave  you  had  better  just 
call  and  thank  Mr.  Osmond  for  his  help,  and  for  having 
been  so  kind  to  Swanhild?  He  will  like  to  know  that  all 
is  cleared  up." 

Frithiof  agreed,  and  set  off  for  Guilford  Square.  The 
night  was  frosty,  and  the  stars  shone  out  bright  and  clear. 
He  walked  briskly  through  the  streets,  not  exactly  liking 
the  prospect  of  his  interview  with  the  clergyman,  yet 
anxious  to  get  it  over,  and  really  grateful  for  what  had 
been  done  by  him. 

Charles  Osmond  received  him  so  kindly  that  his  pre- 
judices vanished  at  once,  and  he  told  him  just  how  the 
five-pound  note  had  affected  his  life,  and  how  all  had  been 
satisfactorily  explained. 

"Such  coincidences  are  very  strange,"  said  Charles 
Osmond,  "  but  it  is  not  the  first  time  that  I  have  come 
23 


338  /  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

across  something  of  the  sort.  Indeed,  I  know  of  a  case 
very  similar  to  yours." 

"If  Lady  Romiaux  is  still  with  you,"  said  Frithiof, 
flushing  a  little,  "perhaps  you  will  tell  her  that  all  is  set 
straight,  and  thank  her  for  having  released  Swanhild  from 
her  promise. " 

"She  is  still  here,"  said  Charles  Osmond,  "  and  I  will 
certainly  tell  her.  I  think  when  she  gave  the  money  to 
your  sister  she  yielded  to  a  kind  impulse,  not  at  all  realiz- 
ing how  foolish  and  useless  such  a  plan  was.  After  all, 
though  she  has  lived  through  so  much  she  is  still  in 
some  ways  a  mere  child." 

He  looked  at  the  Norwegian,  wondering  what  lay  be- 
neath that  handsome  face,  with  its  Grecian  outline  and 
northern  coloring. 

As  if  in  answer  to  the  thought,  Frithiof  raised  his  frank 
blue  eyes,  and  met  the  searching  gaze  of  his  companion. 

"Will  not  Lord  Romiaux  remember  her  youth?"  he 
said.  "Do  you  not  think  there  is  at  least  a  hope  that  he 
will  forgive  her  ?  " 

Then  Charles  Osmond  felt  a  strange  gladness  at  his 
heart,  and  over  his  face  there  came  a  look  of  indescribable 
content.  For  the  words  revealed  to  him  the  noble  nature 
of  the  man  before  him  ;  he  knew  that  not  one  in  a  thou- 
sand would  have  so  spoken  under  the  circumstances. 
The  interest  he  had  felt  in  this  man,  whose  story  had  ac- 
cidentally become  known  to  him,  changed  to  actual  love. 

"I  am  not  without  a  strong  hope  that  those  two  may 
be  atoned,"  he  replied.  "But  as  yet  I  do  not  know 
enough  of  Lord  Romiaux  to  feel  sure.  It  would  probably 
involve  the  sacrifice  of  his  public  life.  I  do  not  know 
whether  his  love  is  equal  to  such  a  sacrifice,  or  whether 
he  has  strength  and  courage  enough  to  offend  the  world, 
or  whether  hje  in  the  least  understands  the  law  of  forgive- 
ness." 

"If  you  could  only  get  to  know  him,"  said  Frithiof. 

"I  quite  hope  to  do  so,  and  that  before  long,"  said 
Charles  Osmond.  "I  think  I  can  get  at  him  through  a 
mutual  friend — the  member  for  Greyshot — but  we  must 
not  be  in  too  great  a  hurry.  Depend  upon  it,  the  right 
time  will  come  if  we  are  only  ready  and  waiting.  Do 
you  know  the  old  Scotch  proverb,  '  Where  twa  are  seek- 
ing they're  sure  to  find  ? '  There  is  a  deep  truth  beneath 
those  words,  a  whole  parable,  it  seems  to  me, " 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  339 

"I  must  not  keep  you,"  said  Frithiof,  rising.  "But  I 
couldn't  rest  till  I  had  thanked  you  for  your  help,  and  let 
you  know  what  had  happened." 

"  The  affair  has  made  us  something  more  than  mere 
acquaintances,"  said  Charles  Osmond.  "I  hope  we  may 
learn  to  know  each  other  well  in  the  future.  A  happy 
Christmas  to  you." 

He  had  opened  the  study  door,  they  were  in  the  passage 
outside,  and  he  grasped  the  Norwegian's  hand.  At  that 
moment  it  happened  that  Blanche  passed  from  the  dining- 
room  to  the  staircase  ;  she  just  glanced  round  to  see  who 
Charles  Osmond  was  addressing  so  heartily,  and,  perceiv- 
ing Frithiof,  colored  painfully  and  caught  at  the  banisters 
for  support. 

Having  realized  what  was  the  Norseman's  character, 
Charles  Osmond  did  not  regret  the  meeting ;  he  stood  by 
in  silence,  glancing  first  at  his  companion's  startled  face> 
then  at  Blanche's  attitude  of  down-cast  confusion. 

As  for  Frithiof,  in  that  moment  he  realized  that  his 
early  passion  was  indeed  dead.  Its  fierce  fire  had  utterly 
burned  out ;  the  weary  pain  was  over,  the  terrible  battle 
which  he  had  fought  so  long  was  at  an  end,  all  that  was 
now  left  was  a  chivalrous  regard  for  the  woman  who  had 
made  him  suffer  so  fearfully,  a  selfless  desire  for  her 
future  safety. 

He  strode  toward  her  with  outstretched  hand.  It  was 
the  first  time  he  had  actually  touched  her  since  they  had 
parted  long  ago  on  the  steamer  at  Balholm,  but  he  did 
not  think  of  that ;  the  past  which  had  lingered  with  him 
so  long  and  with  such  cruel  clearness  seemed  now  to 
have  withered  like  the  raiment  of  a  viking  whose  buried 
ship  is  suddenly  exposed  to  the  air. 

"  I  have  just  been  telling  Mr.  Osmond,"  he  said,  "  th 
thanks  to  your  note  to  Swanhild,  a  curious  mystery 
been  explained  ;  he  will  tell  you  the  details." 

"  And  you  forgive  me  ?  "  faltered  Blanche. 

"Yes,  with  all  my  heart,"  he  said. 

For  a  moment  her  sorrowful  eyes  looked  into  his,  she 
knew  then  that  he  had  entirely  freed  himself  from  his  old 
devotion  to  her,  for  they  met  her  gaze  frankly,  fearlessly, 
and  in  their  blue  depths  there  was  nothing  but  kindly  for- 
giveness. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said,  once  more  taking  his  hand, 
"Qood-by." 


340  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

"Good-by,"  he  replied. 

She  turned  away  and  went  upstairs  without  another 
word.  And  thus,  on  this  Christmas  eve,  the  two  whose 
lives  had  been  so  strangely  woven  together,  parted, 
never  to  meet  again  till  the  clearer  light  of  some  other 
world  had  revealed  to  them  the  full  meaning  of  their 
early  love. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

FOR  a  time  Frithiof  was  rather  silent  and  quiet,  but 
Sigrid  and  Swanhild  were  in  high  spirits  as  they  went 
down  to  Rowan  Tree  House,  arriving  just  in  time  for 
supper.  The  atmosphere  of  happiness,  however,  is 
always  infectious,  and  he  soon  threw  off  his  taciturnity, 
and  dragging  himself  away  from  his  own  engrossing 
thoughts,  forgot  the  shadows  of  life  in  the  pure  brightness 
of  this  home  which  had  been  so  much  to  him  ever  since 
he  first  set  foot  in  it. 

With  Swanhild  for  an  excuse  they  played  all  sorts  of 
games  ;  but  when  at  last  she  had  been  sent  off  to  bed,  the 
fun  and  laughter  quieted  down.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Boniface 
played  their  nightly  game  of  backgammon  ;  Roy  and 
Sigrid  had  a  long  tete-&-tete  in  the  little  inner  drawing- 
room  ;  Cecil  sat  down  at  the  piano  and  began  to  play 
Mendelssohn's  Christmas  pieces  ;  and  Frithiof  threw  him- 
self back  in  the  great  arm-chair  close  by  her,  listening 
half  dreamily  and  with  a  restful  sense  of  pause  in  his  life 
that  he  had  never  before  known.  He  desired  nothing, 
he  reveled  in  the  sense  of  freedom  from  the  love  which 
for  so  long  had  been  a  misery  to  him  ;  the  very  calm  was 
bliss. 

"That  is  beautiful,"  he  said,  when  the  music  ceased. 
"After  all  there  is  no  one  like  Mendelssohn,  he  is  so 
human." 

"You  look  like  one  of  the  lotos-eaters,"  said  Cecil, 
glancing  at  him. 

"  It  is  precisely  what  I  feel  like,"  he  said,  with  a  smile. 
"Perhaps  it  is  because  you  have  been  giving  me 

'  Music  that  genther  on  the  spirit  lies 
Than  tired  eyelids  upon  tired  eyes.' 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  341 

I  remember  so  well  how  you  read  that  to  ir.i  after  I  had 
been  ill." 

She  took  a  little  thin  red  volume  from  the  bookshelves 
beside  her  and  turned  over  the  leaves.  He  bent  forward 
to  look  over  her,  and  together  they  read  the  first  part  of 
the  poem. 

"It  is  Norway,"  he  said,  "What  could  better  de- 
scribe it  ? " 

"  A  land  of  streams  !     Some  like  a  downward  smoke, 

Slow  dripping  veils  of  thinnest  lawn  did  go  ; 
And  some  through  wavering  lights  and  shadows  broke, 

Rolling  a  slumbrous  sheet  of  foam  below. 
.  .  .  Far  off,  three  mountain-tops, 

Three  silent  pinnacles  of  aged  snow, 
Stood  sunset-flushed;  and,  dewed  with  showery  drops, 
Up-clomb  the  shadowy  pine  above  the  woven  copse." 

"  You  will  not  be  a  true  lotos-eater  till  you  are  there 
once  more,"  said  Cecil,  glancing  at  him.  For  his  dreamy 
content  was  gone,  and  a  wistfulness  which  she  quite 
understood  had  taken  its  place.  "  Don't  you  think  now 
that  all  is  so  different,  you  might  perhaps  go  there  next 
summer  ?  "  she  added. 

"No,"  he  replied,  "You  must  not  tempt  me.  I  will 
not  go  back  till  I  am  a  free  man  and  can  look  every  one 
in  the  face.  The  prospect  of  being  free  so  much  sooner 
than  I  had  expected  ought  to  be  enough  to  satisfy  me. 
Suppose  we  build  castles  in  the  air ;  that  is  surely  the 
right  thing  to  do  on  Christmas  eve.  When  at  last  these 
debts  are  cleared,  let  us  all  go  to  Norway  together.  I 
know  Mr.  Boniface  would  be  enchanted  with  it,  and  you, 
you  did  not  see  nearly  all  that  you  should  have  seen. 
You  must  see  the  Romsdal  and  the  Geiranger,  and  we 
must  show  you  Oldoren,  where  we  so  often  spent  the 
summer  holiday." 

"  How  delightful  it  would  be  !  "  said  Cecil. 

"Don't  say  'would,' say  'will,'"  he  replied.  "I  shall 
not  thoroughly  enjoy  it  unless  we  all  go  together,  a  huge 
party." 

"  I  think  we  should  be  rather  in  the  way,"  she  said. 
"You  would  have  so  many  old  friends  out  there,  and 
would  want  to  get  rid  of  us.  Don't  you  remember  the  old 
lady  who  was  so  outspoken  at  Balholm  when  we  tried  to 
be  friendly  and  not  to  let  her  feel  lonely  and  out  of  it  ?  " 

Frithiof  laughed  at  the  recollection. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  ;  "she  liked  to  be  alone,  and  preferred 


342  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

to  walk  on  quickly  and  keep  '  out  of  the  ruck,'  as  she  ex- 
pressed it.  We  were  'the  ruck.'  And  how  we  laughed 
at  her  opinion  of  us." 

"  Well,  of  course  you  wouldn't  exactly  put  it  in  that 
way,  but  all  the  same,  I  think  you  would  want  to  be 
alone  when  you  go  back." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"No;  you  are  quite  mistaken.  Now,  promise  that  if 
Mr.  Boniface  agrees,  you  will  all  come  too." 

"Very  well,"  she  said,  smiling,    "  I  promise." 

"Where  are  they  going  to?"  he  exclaimed,  glancing 
into  the  inner  room,  where  Roy  was  wrapping  a  thick  sofa 
blanket  about  Sigrid's  shoulders. 

"Out  into  the  garden  to  hear  the  bells,  I  dare  say,"  she 
replied.  "  We  generally  go  out  if  it  is  fine." 

"  Let  us  come  too,"  he  said;  and  they  left  the  bright 
room  and  went  out  into  the  dusky  veranda,  pacing  silently 
to  and  fro,  absorbed  in  their  own  thoughts,  while  the 
Christmas  bells  rang 

"  Peace  and  goodwill,  goodwill  and  peace, 
Peace  and  goodwill  to  all  mankind." 

But  the  other  two,  down  in  a  sheltered  path  at  the  end 
of  the  garden,  were  not  silent,  nor  did  they  listen  very 
much  to  the  bells. 

' '  Sigrid, "  said  Roy,  ' '  have  you  forgotten  that  you  made 
me  a  promise  last  June?  " 

"No,"  she  said,  her  voice  trembling  a  little,  "I  have 
not  forgotten." 

"You  promised  that  when  Frithiof  was  cleared  I  might 
ask  you  for  your  answer. " 

She  raised  her  face  to  his  in  the  dim  starlight 

"Yes,  I  did  promise." 

"And  the  answer  is ?  " 

"  I  love  you." 

The  soft  Norse  words  were  spoken  hardly  above  her 
breath,  yet  Roy  knew  that  they  would  ring  in  his  heart 
all  his  life  long. 

"  My  darling  !  "  he  said,  taking  her  in  his  arms.  "  Oh, 
if  you  knew  what  the  waiting  has  been  to  me !  But  it 
was  my  own  fault — all  my  own  fault.  I  ought  to  have 
trusted  your  instinct  before  my  own  reason." 

"No,  no,"  she  said,  clinging  to  him;  "I  think  I  was 
hard  and  bitter  that  day  ;  you  must  forgive  me,  for  I  was 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN:  3 43 

so  very  unhappy.  Don't  let  us  speak  of  it  any  more.  1 
hate  to  think  of  it  even." 

"And  nothing  can  ever  come  between  us  again,"  he 
said,  still  keeping  his  arm  round  her  as  they  walked  on. 

"No;  never  again,"  she  repeated;  "never  again.  I 
know  I  am  too  proud  and  independent,  and  I  suppose  it 
is  to  crush  down  my  pride  that  I  have  to  come  to  you 
like  this,  robbed  of  position  and  money,  and " 

"How  can  you  speak  of  such  things,"  he  said,  re- 
proachfully. "You  know  they  are  nothing  to  me — you 
know  that  I  can  never  feel  worthy  of  you." 

"Such  things  do  seem  very  little  when  one  really 
loves,"  she  said,  gently.  "  I  have  thought  it  over,  and  it 
seems  to  me  like  this — the  proof  of  your  love  to  me  is 
that  you  take  me  poor,  aii  exile,  more  or  less  burdened 
with  the  past  ;  the  proof  of  my  love  to  you  is  that  I  kill 
my  pride — and  yield.  It  would  have  seemed  impossible 
to  me  once ;  but  now —  Oh,  Roy  !  how  I  love  you — 
how  I  love  you  1  " 

"And  about  Frithiof?"  said  Roy,  presently.  "You 
will  explain  all  to  him,  and  make  him  understand  that  I 
would  not  for  the  world  break  up  his  home." 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  "  I  will  tell  him  ;  but  I  think  not 
to-night.  Just  till  to-morrow  let  it  be  only  for  ourselves. 
Hark  !  the  clocks  are  striking  twelve  !  Let  us  go  in  and 
\vish  the  others  a  happy  Christmas." 

But  Roy  kept  the  first  of  the  good  wishes  for  himself  ; 
then,  at  length  releasing  her,  walked  beside  her  toward 
the  house,  happy  beyond  all  power  of  expression. 

And  now  once  more  outer  things  began  to  appeal  to 
him  ;  he  became  conscious  of  the  Christmas  bells  ringing 
gayly  in  the  stillness  of  the  night,  of  the  stars  shining 
down  gloriously  through  the  clear,  frosty  air,  of  the  cheer- 
ful glimpse  of  home  to  be  seen  through  the  uncurtained 
window  of  the  drawing-room. 

Cecil  and  Frithiof  had  left  the  veranda  and  returned  to 
the  piano  ;  they  were  singing  a  carol,  the  German  air  of 
which  was  well  known  in  Norway.  Sigrid  did  not  know 
the  English  words  ;  but  she  listened  to  them  now  intently, 
and  they  helped  to  reconcile  her  to  the  one  thorn  in  her 
perfect  happiness — the  thought  that  these  other  two  were 
shut  out  from  the  bliss  which  she  enjoyed. 

Quietly  she  stole  into  the  room  and  stood  watching 
them  as  they  sang  the  quaint  old  hymn  : 


344  A  HARDY  KOKSEMAtt. 

"Good  Christian  men  rejoice, 
In  heart  and  soul  and  voice ; 
Now  ye  hear  of  endless  bliss ; 

Joy!  Joy! 

Jesus  Christ  was  born  for  this  ! 
He  hath  oped  the  heavenly  door, 
And  man  is  blessed  evermore. 
Christ  was  born  for  this." 

Cecil,  glancing  up  at  her  when  the  carol  was  ended, 
read  her  secret  in  her  happy,  glowing  face.  She  rose  from 
the  piano. 

"A  happy  Christmas  to  you,"  she  said,  kissing  her  on 
both  cheeks. 

"We  have  been  out  in  the  garden,  right  down  in  the 
lower  path,  and  you  can't  think  how  lovely  the  bells 
sound,"  said  Sigrid. 

Then,  with  a  fresh  stab  of  pain  at  her  heart,  she  thought 
of  Frithiof  s  spoiled  life  ;  she  looked  wistfully  across  at 
him,  conscious  that  her  love  for  Roy  had  only  deepened 
her  love  for  those  belonging  to  her. 

Was  he  never  to  know  anything  more  satisfying  than 
the  peace  of  being  freed  from  the  heavy  load  of  suspicion  ? 
Was  he  only  to  know  the  pain  of  love  ?  All  her  first  desire 
to  keep  her  secret  to  herself  died  away  as  she  looked  at 
him,  and  in  another  minute  her  hand  was  on  his  arm. 

"  Dear  old  boy,"  she  said  to  him  in  Norse,  "  won't  you 
come  out  into  the  garden  with  me  for  a  few  minutes  ? " 

So  they  went  out  together  into  the  starlight,  and  wan- 
dered down  to  the  sheltered  path  where  she  and  Roy  had 
paced  to  and  fro  so  long. 

"What  a  happy  Christmas  it  has  been  for  us  all  !  "  she 
said  thoughtfully. 

"  Very ;  and  how  little  we  expected  it,"  said  Frithiof. 

"  Do  you  think,"  she  began  falteringly,  "  do  you  think, 
Frithiof,  it  would  make  you  less  happy  if  I  told  you  of  a 
new  happiness  that  has  come  to  me  ?  " 

Her  tone  as  much  as  the  actual  words  suddenly  enlight- 
ened him. 

"  Whatever  makes  for  your  happiness  makes  for  mine," 
he  said,  trying  to  read  her  face. 

"  Are  you  sure  of  that  ? "  she  said,  the  tears  rushing  to 
her  eyes.  "  Oh,  if  I  could  quite  believe  you,  Frithiof,  how 
happy  I  should  be  !  " 

"  Why  should  you  doubt  me?"  he  asked.  "Come.  I 
have  guessed  your  secret,  you  are  going  to  tell  me  that-—" 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  345 

"  That  Roy  will  some  day  be  your  brother  as  well  as 
your  friend,"  she  said,  finishing  his  sentence  for  him. 

He  caught  her  hand  in  his  and  held  it  fast. 

"  I  wish  you  joy,  Sigrid,  with  all  my  heart.  This  puts 
the  finishing  touch  to  our  Christmas  happiness." 

"  And  Roy  has  been  making  such  plans,"  said  Sigrid, 
brushing  away  her  tears  ;  "  he  says  that  just  over  the  wall 
there  is  a  charming  little  house  back  to  back,  you  know, 
with  this  one.  and  it  will  just  hold  us  all,  for  of  course  he 
will  never  allow  us  to  be  separated.  He  told  me  that  long 
ago,  when  he  first  asked  me." 

"  Long  ago  ?  "  said  Frithiof  ;  "  why,  what  do  you  mean, 
Sigrid?  I  thought  it  was  only  to-night." 

"  It  was  only  to-night  that  I  gave  him  his  answer,"  said 
Sigrid.  "  It  was  when  we  were  at  the  sea  last  June  that 
he  first  spoke  to  me,  and  then — afterward — perhaps  I  was 
wrong,  but  I  would  not  hear  anything  more  about  it  till 
your  cloud  had  passed  away.  I  knew  some  day  that  your 
name  must  be  cleared,  and  I  was  angry  with  Roy  for  not 
believing  in  you.  I  dare  say  I  was  wrong  to  expect  it, 
but  somehow  I  did  expect  it,  and  it  disappointed  me  so 
dreadfully.  He  says  himself  now  that  he  ought  to  have 
trusted — " 

"  It  was  a  wonder  that  you  didn't  make  him  hate  me 
forever,"  said  Frithiof.  "Why  did  you  not  tell  me  about 
it  before  ? " 

"How  could  I?"  she  said.  "It  would  only  have 
made  you  more  unhappy.  It  was  far  better  to  wait." 

"But  what  a  terrible  autumn  for  you!"  exclaimed 
Frithiof.  "  And  to  think  that  all  this  should  have  sprung 
from  that  wretched  five-pound  note  !  Our  stories  have 
been  curiously  woven  together,  Sigrid." 

As  she  thought  of  the  contrast  between  the  two  stories 
her  tears  broke  forth  afresh  ;  she  walked  on  silently,  hop- 
ing that  he  would  not  notice  them,  but  a  drop  fell  right 
on  to  his  wrist ;  he  stopped  suddenly,  took  her  face  be- 
tween his  hands  and  looked  full  into  her  eyes. 

"You  dear  little  goose,"  he  said,  "  what  makes  you 
cry  ?  Was  it  because  I  said  our  stories  had  been  woven 
together  ?  " 

"  It's  because  I  wish  they  could  have  been  alike,"  she 
sobbed. 

"  But  it  wasn't  to  be,"  he  said  quietly.  "  It  is  an  odd 
thing  to  say  to  you  to-night,  when  your  new  life  is  begin- 


346  A  tlARDY  NORSEMAN. 

ning,  but  to-night  I  also  am  happy,  because  now  at  last 
my  struggle  is  over — now  at  last  the  fire  is  burned  out.  I 
don't  want  anything  but  just  the  peace  of  being  free  to  the 
end  of  my  life.  Believe  me,  I  am  content." 

Her  throat  seemed  to  have  closed  up,  she  could  not  say 
a  word  just  because  she  felt  for  him  so  intensely.  She 
gave  him  a  little  mute  caress,  and  once  more  they  paced 
along  the  garden  path.  But  her  whole  soul  revolted 
against  this  notion  of  content.  She  understood  it  as  little 
as  the  soldier  marching  to  his  first  battle  understands  the 
calm  indifference  of  the  comrade  who  lies  in  hospital. 
Surely  Frithiof  was  to  have  something  better  in  his  life 
than  this  miserable  parody  of  love  ?  This  passion,  which 
had  been  almost  all  pain,  could  surely  not  be  the  only 
glimpse  vouchsafed  him  of  the  bliss  which  had  transfigured 
the  whole  world  for  her  ?  There  came  back  to  her  the 
thought  of  the  old  study  at  Bergen,  and  she  seemed  to 
hear  her  father's  voice  saying — 

"  I  should  like  an  early  marriage  for  Frithiof,  but  I  will 
not  say  too  much  about  you,  Sigrid,  for  I  don't  know  how 
I  should  ever  spare  you." 

And  she  sighed  as  she  remembered  how  his  plans  had 
been  crossed  and  his  business  ruined,  and  his  heart  broken 
— how  both  for  him  and  for  Frithiof  failure  had  been  de- 
creed. 

Yet  the  Christmas  bells  rang  on  in  this  world  of  strangely 
mingled  joy  and  sorrow,  and  they  brought  her  much  the 
same  message  that  had  been  brought  to  her  by  the  silence 
on  Hjerkinsho — 

"There  is  a  better  plan  which  can't  go  wrong,"  she  said 
to  herself. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

"I  HAVE  some  news  for  you,"  said  Mr.  Homer  to  his 
wife  a  few  days  after- this,  as  one  evening  he  entered  the 
drawing-room.  The  huge  gold  clock  with  the  little  white 
face  pointed  to  the  hour  of  eight,  the  golden  pigs  still 
climbed  the  golden  hill,  the  golden  swineherd  still  leaned 
meditatively  on  his  golden  staff.  Mrs.  Homer,  arrayed 
in  peacock-blue  satin,  glanced  from  her  husband  to  the 
clock  and  back  again  to  her  husband. 

she  said  in  a  distinctly  discouraging  tone. 


A  II A RD  Y  NORSEMAN.  347 

"  Is  it  that  which  makes  you  so  late?  However,  it's  of  no 
consequence  to  me  if  the  dinner  is  spoiled,  quite  the  con- 
trary, I  am  not  particular.  But  I  beg  you  won't  grumble 
if  the  meat  is  done  to  a  cinder." 

' '  Never  mind  the  dinner, "  replied  Mr.  Horner  captiously. 
"I  have  other  things  to  think  of  than  overdone  joints. 
That  fool  Boniface  has  taken  me  at  my  word,  and  actually 
doesn't  intend  to  renew  the  partnership." 

"What !  "  cried  his  wife,  "not  now  that  all  this  affair 
is  cleared  up,  and  you  have  apologized  so  handsomely  to 
young  Falck  ? " 

"No;  it's  perfectly  disgraceful,"  said  James  Horner, 
looking  like  an  angry  turkey-cock  as  he  paced  to  and  fro. 
"  I  shook  hands  with  Falck,  and  told  him  I  was  sorry  to 
have  misjudged  him,  and  even  owned  to  Boniface  that  I 
had  spoken  hastily,  but  would  you  believe  it,  he  won't 
reconsider  the  matter.  He  not  only  gives  me  the  sack, 
but  he  takes  in  my  place  that  scheming  Norwegian." 

"But  the  fellow  has  no  capital,"  cried  Mrs.  Horner  in 
great  agitation.  "  He  is  as  poor  as  a  rook  !  He  hasn't  a 
single  penny  to  put  into  the  concern." 

"Precisely.  But  Boniface  is  such  a  fool  that  he  over- 
looks that  and  does  nothing  but  talk  of  his  great  business 
capacities,  his  industry,  his  good  address,  and  a  lot  of 
other  rubbish  of  that  sort.  Why,  without  money  a  fellow 
is  worth  nothing — absolutely  nothing." 

"  From  the  first  I  detested  him,"  said  Mrs.  Horner. 
"I  knew  that  the  Bonifaces  were  deceived  in  him.  It's 
my  belief  that  although  his  character  is  cleared  as  to  this 
five-pound  note  business,  yet  he  is  really  a  mere  adven- 
turer. Depend  upon  it  he'll  manage  to  get  everything 
into  his  own  hands,  and  will  be  ousting  Roy  one  of  these 
days." 

"Well,  he's  hardly  likely  to  do  that,  for  it  seems  the 
sister  has  been  keeping  her  eyes  open  and  that  idiot  of  a 
Roy  is  going  to  marry  her. " 

"To  marry  Sigrid  Falck?"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Horner, 
starting  to  her  feet.  "Actually  to  bring  into  the  family 
a  girl  who  plays  at  dancing-classes  and  parties — a  girl 
who  sweeps  her  own  house  and  cooks  her  own  dinner  !  " 

"I  don't  know  that  she  is  any  the  worse  for  doing 
that,"  said  James  Horner.  "It's  not  the  girl  herself  that 
I  object  to,  for  she's  pretty  and  pleasant  enough,  but  the 
connection,  the  being  related  by  marriage  to  that  odious 


348  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

Falck,  who  has  treated  me  so  insufferably,  who  looks 
down  on  me  and  is  as  stand-offish'  as  if  he  were  an 
emperor. " 

"  If  there  is  one  thing  I  do  detest,"  said  Mrs.  Horner, 
"it  is  pushing  people — a  sure  sign  of  vulgarity.  But  it's 
partly  Loveday's  fault.  If  I  had  had  to  deal  with  the 
Falcks  they  would  have  been  taught  their  proper  place, 
and  all  this  would  not  have  happened." 

At  this  moment  dinner  was  announced.  The  overdone 
meat  did  not  improve  Mr.  Horner's  temper,  and  when  the 
servants  had  left  the  room  he  broke  out  into  fresh  invec- 
tives against  the  Bonifaces. 

"  When  is  the  wedding  to  be  ?  "  asked  his  wife. 

"Some  time  in  February,  I  believe.  They  are  house- 
furnishing  already." 

Mrs.  Horner  gave  an  ejaculation  of  annoyance. 

"Well,  the  sooner  we  leave  London  the  better,"  she 
said.  "  I'm  not  going  to  be  mixed  up  with  all  this  ;  we'll 
avoid  any  open  breach  with  the  family  of  course,  but  for 
goodness'  sake  do  let  the  house  and  let  us  settle  down 
elsewhere.  There's  that  house  at  Croydon  I  was  very 
partial  to,  and  you  could  go  up  and  down  easy  enough 
from  there." 

"We'll  think  of  it,"  said  Mr.  Horner,  reflectively. 
"And,  by-the-bye,  we  must,  I  suppose,  get  them  some 
sort  of  wedding  present." 

"By  good  luck,"  says  Mrs.  Horner,  "I  won  a  sofa- 
cushion  last  week  in  a  raffle  at  the  bazaar  for  the  chapel 
organ  fund.  It's  quite  good  enough  for  them,  I'm  sure. 
I  did  half  think  of  sending  it  to  the  youngest  Miss  Smith, 
who  is  to  be  married  on  New  Year's  Day,  but  they're  such 
rich  people  that  I  suppose  I  must  send  them  something  a 
little  more  showy  and  expensive.  This  will  do  very  well 
for  Sigrid  Falck." 

Luckily  the  opinion  of  outsiders  did  not  at  all  mar  the 
happiness  of  the  two  lovers.  They  were  charmed  to 
hear  that  the  Homers  were  leaving  London,  and  when  in 
due  time  the  sofa-cushion  arrived,  surmounted  by  Mrs. 
Horner's  card,  Sigrid,  who  had  been  in  the  blessed  con- 
dition of  expecting  nothing,  was  able  to  write  a  charming 
little  note  of  thanks,  which,  by  its  straightforward  sim- 
plicity, made  the  donor  blush  with  an  uncomfortable 
sense  of  guilt. 

"And  after  all,"  remarked  Sigrid  to  Cecil,   "we  really 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  349 

owe  a  great  deal  to  Mrs.  Horner,  for  if  she  had  not  asked 
me  to  that  children's  fancy  ball  I  should  never  have  met 
Madame  Lechertier,  and  how  could  we  ever  have  lived  all 
together  if  it  had  not  been  for  that  ?  " 

"In  those  days  I  think  Mrs.  Horner  rather  liked  you, 
but  somehow  you  have  offended  her." 

"  Why  of  course  it  was  by  earning  my  living  and  set- 
ting up  in  model  lodgings  ;  I  utterly  shocked  all  her  ideas 
of  propriety,  and,  when  once  you  do  that,  good-bye  to  all 
hopes  of  remaining  in  Mrs.  Horner's  good  books.  It 
would  have  grieved  me  to  displease  any  of  your  relations 
if  you  yourselves  cared  for  them,  but  the  Homers — well, 
1  cannot  pretend  to  care  the  least  about  them." 

The  two  girls  were  in  the  little  sitting-room  of  the 
model  lodgings,  putting  the  finishing  touches  to  the  white 
cashmere  wedding-dress  which  Sigrid  had  cut  out  and 
made  for  herself  during  the  quiet  days  they  had  spent  at 
Rowan  Tree  House.  Every  one  entered  most  heartily 
into  all  the  busy  preparations,  and  Sigrid  could  not  help 
thinking  to  herself  that  the  best  proof  that  trouble  had  not 
spoiled  or  soured  the  lives  either  of  Cecil  or  Frithiof  lay 
in  their  keen  enjoyment  of  other  people's  happiness. 

The  wedding  was  to  be  extremely  quiet.  Early  in  the 
morning,  when  Cecil  went  to  see  if  she  could  be  of  any 
use,  she  found  the  bride-elect  in  her  usual  black  dress  and 
her  housekeeping  apron  of  brown  holland,  busily  packing 
Frithiof's  portmanteau. 

"Oh,  let  me  do  it  for  you,"  she  said.  "The  idea  of 
your  toiling  away  to-day  just  as  if  you  were  not  going  to 
be  married  !  " 

Sigrid  laughed  merrily. 

"  Must  brides  sit  and  do  nothing  until  the  ceremony  ?  " 
she  asked.  "If  so,  I  am  sorry  for  them  ;  I  couldn't  sit 
still  if  I  were  to  try.  How  glad  I  am  to  think  Frithiof 
and  Swanhild  will  be  at  Rowan  Tree  House  while  we  are 
away  !  I  should  never  have  had  a  moment's  peace  if  I 
had  left  them  here,  for  Swanhild  is,  after  all,  only  a  child. 
It  is  so  good  of  Mrs.  Boniface  to  have  asked  them." 

"  Since  you  are  taking  Roy  away  from  us,  I  think  it  is 
the  least  you  could  do,"  said  Cecil,  laughing.  "  It  will  be 
such  a  help  to  have  them  this  evening,  for  otherwise  we 
should  all  be  feeling  very  flat,  I  know." 

"And  we  shall  be  on  our  way  to  the  Riviera,"  said 
Sigrid,  pausing  for  a  few  minutes  in  her  busy  preparations  ; 


350  A  HARDY  NORSE  MA  N. 

a  dreamy  look  came  into  her  clear,  practical  eyes,  and  she 
let  her  head  rest  against  the  side  of  the  bed. 

"Sometimes,  do  you  know,"  she  exclaimed,  "I  can't 
believe  this  is  all  real.  I  think  I  am  just  imagining  it  all, 
and  that  I  shall  wake  up  presently  and  find  myself  play- 
ing the  Myosotis  waltz  at  the  academy — it  was  always 
such  a  good  tune  to  dream  to." 

"Wait,"  said  Cecil;  "does  this  make  it  feel  more 
real,"  and  hastily  going  into  the  outer  room  she  re- 
turned bearing  the  lovely  wedding  bouquet  which  Roy 
had  sent. 

"Lilies  of  the  valley!"  exclaimed  Sigrid.  "Oh,  how 
exquisite  !  And  myrtle  ar,.d  eucharist  lilies — it  is  the  most 
beautiful  bouquet  I  ever  saw." 

"Don't  you  think  it  is  time  you  were  dressing,"  said 
Cecil.  "Come,  sit  down  «ind  let  me  do  your  hair  for  you 
while  you  enjoy  your  flowers." 

"But  Swanhild's  packing — I  don't  think  it  is  quite  fin- 
ished." 

"Never  mind,  I  will  come  back  this  afternoon  with  her 
and  finish  everything,  you  must  let  us  help  you  a  little 
just  for  once." 

And  then,  as  she  brushed  out  the  long,  golden  hair,  she 
thought  how  few  brides  showed  Sigrid's  wonderful  unsel- 
fishness and  care  for  others,  and  somehow  wished  that 
Roy  could  have  seen  her  just  as  she  was,  in  her  working- 
day  apron,  too  full  of  household  arrangements  to  spend 
much  time  over  her  own  toilet. 

Swanhild,  already  dressed  in  her  white  cashmere  and 
pretty  white  beaver  hat,  danced  in  and  out  of  the  room 
fetching  and  carrying,  and  before  long  the  bride,  too,  was 
dressed,  and  with  her  long  tulle  veil  over  the  dainty  little 
wreath  of  real  orange  blossom  from  Madame  Lechertier's 
greenhouse,  and  the  home-made  dress  which  fitted  admir- 
ably, she  walked  into  the  little  sitting-room  to  show  her- 
self to  Frithiof. 

"I  shall  hold  up  your  train,  Sigrid,  in  case  the  floor 
is  at  all  dusty,"  said  Swanhild,  much  enjoying  the  ex- 
citement of  the  first  wedding  in  the  family,  and  deter- 
mined not  to  think  of  the  parting  till  it  actually  came. 

Frithiof  made  an  involuntary  exclamation  as  she  entered 
the  room. 

"  You  look  like  Ingeborg,"  he  said,  "  when  she  came 
into  the  new  temple  of  Balder," 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  351 

.    "Followed  by  many  a  fair  attendant  maiden, 
As  shines  the  moon  amid  surrounding  stars," 

quoted  Swanhild  in  Norse  from  the  old  saga,  looking 
roguishly  up  at  her  tall  brother. 

Sigrid  laughed  and  turned  to  Cecil. 

"She  says  that  I  am  the  moon  and  shine  with  a  bor- 
rowed light,  and  that  you  are  the  stars  with  light  of  your 
own.  By-the-by,  where  is  my  other  little  bridesmaid  ?  " 

"Gwen  is  to  meet  us  at  the  church,"  explained  Cecil. 
"Do  you  know  I  think  the  carriage  must  be  waiting,  for 
I  see  the  eldest  little  Hallifield  tearing  across  the  court- 
yard." 

"Then  I  must  say  good-bye  to  every  one,"  said  Sigrid  ; 
and  with  one  last  look  round  the  little  home  which  had 
grown  so  dear  to  them,  she  took  Frithiofs  arm  and  went 
out  into  the  long  stone  passage,  where  a  group  of  the 
neighbors  stood  waiting  to  see  the  last  of  her,  and  to  give 
her  their  hearty  good  wishes.  She  had  a  word  and  a 
smile  for  every  one,  and  they  all  followed  her  down  the 
stairs  and  across  the  courtyard  and  stood  waving  their 
hands  as  the  carriage  drove  off. 

That  chapter  of  her  life  was  ended,  and  the  busy  hive 
of  workers  would  no  longer  count  her  as  queen-bee  of  the 
establishment.  The  cares  and  troubles  and  wearing  econ- 
omies were  things  of  the  past,  but  she  would  take  with 
her  and  keep  forever  many  happy  memories  ;  and  many 
friendships  would  still  last  and  give  her  an  excuse  for  vis- 
iting afterward  the  scene  of  her  first  home  in  London. 

She  was  quite  silent  as  they  drove  through  the  busy 
streets,  her  eyes  had  again  that  sweet  dreamy  look  in  them 
that  Cecil  had  noticed  earlier  in  the  morning  ;  she  did  not 
seem  to  see  outward  things,  until  after  a  while  her  eyes 
met  Frithiof's  and  then  her  face,  which  had  been  rather 
grave,  broke  into  sudden  brightness,  and  she  said  a  few 
words  to  him  in  Norse,  which  he  replied  to  with  a  look 
so  full  of  loving  pride  and  contentment  that  it  carried  the 
sunshine  straight  into  Cecil's  heart. 

"This  marriage  is  a  capital  thing  for  him,"  she  thought 
to  herself.  "  He  will  be  happy  in  her  happiness." 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  church  ;  Lance,  in  the 
dress  he  had  worn  at  Mrs.  Horner's  fancy  ball,  stood 
ready  to  hold  the  bride's  train,  and  Gwen  came  running 
up,  eager  to  take  her  place  in  the  little  procession. 

A  few  spectators  had  dropped  in,  but  the  church  was 


352  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

very  quiet,  and  up  in  the  chancel  there  were  only  Roy 
and  his  best  man,  Madame  Lechertier,  old  Herr  Sivertsen, 
and  the  father  and  mother  of  the  bridegroom.  Charles 
Osmond  read  the  service,  and  his  pretty  daughter-in-law 
had  begged  leave  to  play  the  organ,  for  she  had  taken  a 
fancy  not  only  to  little  Swanhild,  but  to  the  whole  family, 
when  at  her  father-in-law's  request  she  had  called  upon 
them.  After  the  wedding  was  over  and  the  procession 
had  once  more  passed  down  the  aisle  she  still  went  on 
playing,  having  a  love  of  finishing  in  her  nature.  Charles 
Osmond  came  out  of  the  vestry  and  stood  beside  her. 

"I  am  glad  you  played  for  them,"  he  said  when  the 
last  chord  had  been  struck.  "It  was  not  at  all  the  sort 
of  wedding  to  be  without  music." 

"It  was  one  of  the  nicest  weddings  I  was  ever  at,"  she 
said  ;  "  and  as  to  your  Norseman — he  is  all  you  said,  and 
more.  Do  you  know,  there  is  a  strong  look  about  him 
which  somehow  made  me  think  of  my  father.  Oh  !  I 
do  hope  he  will  be  able  to  pay  off  the  debts." 

"  There  is  only  one  thing  which  could  hinder  him," 
said  Charles  Osmond. 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  asked  Erica,  looking  up  quickly. 

"  Death,"  he  replied  quietly. 

She  made  no  answer,  but  the  word  did  not  jar  upon 
her,  for  she  was  one  of  those  who  have  learned  that  death 
is  indeed  the  Gate  of  Life. 

Silently  she  pushed  in  the  stops  and  locked  the  organ. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

ONE  spring  evening,  rather  more  than  two  years  after 
the  wedding,  Sigrid  was  working  away  in  the  little  back 
garden,  to  which,  now  that  her  household  duties  were 
light,  she  devoted  a  good  deal  of  her  time.  It  joined 
the  garden  of  Rowan  Tree  House,  and,  for  greater 
convenience,  an  opening  had  been  made  in  the  hedge, 
and  a  little  green  gate  put  up.  Upon  this  gate  leaned 
Cecil,  chatting  comfortably,  her  tennis  racquet  under  her 
arm,  and  with  a  pleasant  consciousness  that  the  work  of 
the  day  was  over,  and  that  Roy  and  Frithiof  might  soon 
be  expected  for  the  nightly  game  which,  during  the  season, 
they  seldom  cared  to  miss. 


A  HARDY  NORSE  MA  M  353 

"They  are  late  this  evening,"  saidSigrid.  "  I  wonder 
"whether  Herr  Sivertsen  has  caught  Frithiof.  1  hope  not, 
for  the  tennis  does  him  so  much  good." 

"Is  he  working  very  hard?"  asked  Cecil. 

"He  always  works  furiously  ;  and  just  now  I  think  he 
has  got  what  some  one  called  'the  lust  of  finishing' 
xipon  him  ;  we  see  very  little  of  him,  for  when  he  is  not 
at  business  he  is  hard  at  work  over  Herr  Sivertsen's 
manuscript.  But  it  really  seems  to  agree  with  him  ;  they 
say,  you  know,  that  work  without  worry  harms  no  one." 

"A  very  moral  precept,"  said  a  voice  behind  her,  and 
glancing  up  she  saw  Frithiof  himself  crossing  the  little 
lawn. 

The  two  years  had  not  greatly  altered  him,  but  he 
seemed  more  full  of  life  and  vigor  than  before,  and 
success  and  hope  had  entirely  banished  the  look  of  conflict 
which  for  so  long  had  been  plainly  visible  in  his  face. 
Sigrid  felt  proud  of  him  as  she  glanced  round  ;  there  was 
something  in  his  mere  physical  strength  which  always 
appealed  to  her. 

"We  were  just  talking  about  you,"  she  said,  "and 
wondering  when  you  would  be  ready  to  play." 

"After  that  remark  of  yours  which  I  overheard,  I 
almost  think  I  shall  have  to  eschew  tennis,"  he  said, 
laughing.  "  Why  should  I  give  a  whole  hour  to  it  when 
Herr  Sivertsen  is  impatiently  waiting  for  the  next  instal- 
ment ?  " 

"  Herr  Sivertsen  is  insatiable,"  said  Sigrid,  taking  off 
her  gardening-gloves.  "And  I'm  not  going  to  allow  you 
to  return  to  your  old  bad  ways  ;  as  long  as  you  live  with 
me  you  will  have  to  be  something  more  than  a  working 
drudge. " 

"Since  Sigrid  has  begun  baby's  education, "  said  Frithiof, 
turning  laughingly  to  Cecil,  "we  notice  that  she  has 
become  very  dictatorial  to  the  rest  of  us." 

"  You  shouldn't  make  stage  asides  in  such  a  loud  voice," 
said  Sigrid,  pretending  to  box  his  ears.  "I  am  going  to 
meet  Roy  and  to  fetch  the  racquets,  and  you  take  him 
into  the  garden,  Cecil,  and  make  him  behave  properly." 

"Are  you  really  so  specially  busy  just  now?"  asked 
Cecil,  as  he  opened  the  little  gate  and  joined  her;  "or 
was  it  only  your  fun  ?  " 

"No,  it  was  grim  earnest, "he  replied.  "For  since 
Herr  Sivertsen  has  been  so  infirm  I  have  had  most  of  his 


354  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

work  to  do.  But  it  is  well-paid  work,  and  a  very  great 
help  toward  the  debt  fund.  In  ten  years'  time  I  may  be 
free." 

"  You  will  really  have  paid  off  everything?" 

"  I  quite  hope  to  be  able  to  do  so." 

"It  will  be  a  great  work  done,"  she  said,  thoughtfully. 
"But  when  it  is  all  finished,  I  wonder  whether  you  will  not 
feel  a  little  like  the  men  who  work  all  their  lives  to  make 
a  certain  amount  and  then  retire,  and  can't  think  what  to 
do  with  themselves  ?  " 

"  I  hope  not,"  said  Frithiof ;  "but  I  own  that  there  is  a 
chance  of  it.  You  see,  the  actual  work  in  itself  is  hateful 
to  me.  Never,  I  should  think,  was  there  any  one  who 
so  loathed  indoor  work  of  all  kinds,  specially  desk  work. 
Yet  I  have  learned  to  take  real  interest  in  the  business, 
and  that  will  remain  and  still  be  my  duty  when  the  debts 
are  cleared  off.  It  is  a  shocking  confession,  but  I  own 
that  when  Herr  Sivertsen's  work  is  no  longer  a  necessity 
it  will  be  an  immense  relief  to  me,  and  I  doubt  if  I  shall 
ever  open  that  sort  of  book  again." 

"It  must  be  terrible  drudgery,"  said  Cecil,  "since  you 
can't  really  like  it." 

"Herr  Sivertsen  has  given  me  up  as  a  hopeless  case; 
he  has  long  ago  ceased  to  talk  about  Culture  with  a 
capital  C  to  it ;  he  no  longer  expects  me  to  take  any 
interest  in  the  question  whether  earthworms  do  or  do  not 
show  any  sensitiveness  to  sound  when  placed  on  a  grand 
piano.  I  told  him  that  the  bare  idea  is  enough  to  make 
any  one  in  the  trade  shudder." 

Cecil  laughed  merrily.  It  was  by  no  means  the  first 
time  that  he  had  told  her  of  his  hopeless  lack  of  all 
literary  and  scientific  tastes,  and  she  admired  him  all  the 
more  for  it,  because  he  kept  so  perseveringly  to  the  work, 
and  disregarded  his  personal  tastes  so  manfully.  They 
had,  moreover,  many  points  in  common,  for  there  was  a 
vein  of  poetry  in  his  nature  as  well  as  in  hers  ;  like  most 
Norwegians,  he  was  musical,  and  his  love  of  sport  and  of 
outdoor  life  had  not  robbed  him  of  the  gentler  tastes — 
love  of  scenery  and  love  of  home. 

"See!"  she  exclaimed,  "there  is  the  first  narcissus. 
How  early  it  is  !  I  must  take  it  to  mother,  for  she  is  so 
fond  of  them." 

He  stooped  to  gather  the  flower  for  her,  and  as  she 
took  it  from  him,  he  just  glanced  at  her  for  a  moment ; 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  355 

she  was  looking-  very  pretty  that  evening,  her  gray  eyes 
were  unusually  bright,  there  was  a  soft  glow  of  color  in 
her  fair  face,  an  air  of  glad  contentment  seemed  to  hover 
about  her.  He  little  guessed  that  it  was  happiness  in  his 
success  which  was  the  cause  of  all  this. 

Even  as  he  watched  her,  however,  her  color  faded,  her 
lips  began  to  quiver,  she  seemed  to  be  on  the  point  of 
fainting. 

"Is  anything  the  matter!"  he  asked,  alarmed  by  the 
sudden  change  in  her  face.  "Are  you  ill,  Cecil?" 

She  did  not  reply,  but  let  him  help  her  to  the  nearest 
garden  seat. 

"It  is  the  scent  of  the  narcissus;  it  is  too  strong  for 
you,"  he  suggested. 

"No,  "she  gasped.  "  But  a  most  awful  feeling  came 
over  me.  Something  is  going  to  happen,  I  am  sure  of  it." 

He  looked  perplexed.  She  dropped  the  narcissus  from 
her  hand,  and  he  picked  it  up  and  put  it  on  the  farther 
side  of  the  bench,  still  clinging  to  his  own  theory  that  it 
was  the  cause  of  her  faintness.  Her  face,  which  a  moment 
before  had  been  so  bright,  was  now  white  as  the  flower 
itself,  and  the  look  of  suffering  in  it  touched  him. 

His  heart  began  to  beat  a  little  uneasily  when  he  saw 
a  servant  approaching  them  from  the  house. 

"She  is  right,"  he  thought  to  himself.  "What  on 
earth  can  it  be  ?  " 

"Master  asked  me  to  give  you  this,  Miss  Cecil,"  said 
the  maid,  handing  her  a  little  penciled  note. 

She  sat  up  hastily,  making  a  desperate  effort  to  look  as 
if  nothing  were  wrong  with  her.  The  servant  went  back 
to  the  house,  and  Frithiof  waited  anxiously  to  hear  what 
the  note  was  about.  She  read  it  through  and  then  handed 
it  to  him. 

It  ran  as  follows  : — 

' '  Mr.  Grantley  has  come,  and  wishes  to  see  the  children. 
He  will  not  take  them  away  for  a  few  days,  but  you  had 
better  bring  them  down  to  see  him." 

"He  is  out  of  prison!"  exclaimed  Frithiof.  "But 
surely  his  time  is  not  up  yet.  I  thought  he  had  five 
years  ? " 

"  The  five  years  would  be  over  next  October.  I  knew 
it  would  come  some  day,  but  I  never  thought  of  it  so 
soon,  and  to  take  them  away  in  a  few  days  !  " 

"I  remember  now,"  said  Frithiof ;   "there is  a  rule  that 


356  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

by  good  behavior  in  prison  they  can  slightly  shorten  their 
time.  I  am  so  sorry  for  you  ;  it  will  be  a  fearful  wrench 
to  you  to  part  with  Lance  and  Gwen. " 

She  locked  her  hands  together,  making  no  attempt  at 
an  answer. 

"  How  exactly  like  the  world,"  thought  Frithiof  to 
himself.  "  Here  is  a  girl  passionately  devoted  to  these 
children,  while  the  mother,  who  never  deserved  them  at 
all,  has  utterly  deserted  them.  To  have  had  them  for 
five  years  and  then  suddenly  to  lose  them  altogether,  that 
is  a  fearful  blow  for  her,  they  ought  to  have  thought  of  it 
before  adopting  the  children. " 

"Is  there  nothing  I  can  do  to  help  you?"  he  said, 
turning  toward  her.  "Shall  I  go  and  fetch  Lance  and 
Gwen  ? " 

With  an  effort  she  stood  up. 

"No,  no,"  she  said,  trying  hard  to  speak  cheerfully. 
"  Don't  let  this  spoil  your  game.  I  am  better,  I  will  go 
and  find  them." 

But  by  a  sudden  impulse  he  sprang  up,  made  her  take 
his  arm  and  walked  to  the  house  with  her. 

"  You  are  still  rather  shaky,  I  think,"  he  said.  "Let 
me  come  with  you,  I  can  at  any  rate  save  you  the  stairs. 
How  strange  it  was  that  you  should  have  known  before- 
hand that  this  was  coming  !  Did  you  ever  have  a 
presentiment  of  that  kind  over  anything  else  ?  " 

"Never,"  shesaid.  "It  was  such  an  awful  feeling.  I 
wonder  what  it  is  that  brings  it." 

He  left  her  in  the  hall  and  ran  upstairs  to  the  nursery, 
where  he  was  always  a  welcome  visitor.  Both  children 
rushed  to  meet  him  with  cries  of  delight. 

"Cecil  has  sent  me  up  with  a  message  to  you, "he 
said. 

"To  say  we  may  come  down,"  shouted  Lance.  "Is 
that  it,  Herr  Frithiof?" 

"No,"  cried  Gwen,  dancing  round  him,  "it's  to  say  a 
holiday  for  to-morrow,  I  guess." 

"  No,  not  that  exactly,"  he  said  ;  "but  your  father  has 
come,  and  Cecil  wants  you  to  come  down  and  see  him." 

The  children's  faces  fell.  It  seemed  almost  as  if  they 
instinctively  knew  of  the  cloud  that  hung  over  their 
father.  They  had  always  known  that  he  would  some 
day  come  to  them  ;  but  his  name  had  been  little  mentioned. 
It  was  difficult  to  mention  it  without  running  the  risk  of 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  357 

the  terrible  questions  which  as  children  they  were  so 
likely  to  ask.  All  the  gladness  and  spirit  seemed  to  have 
l.eft  them.  They  were  both  shy,  and  the  meeting  with 
this  unknown  parent  was  a  terror  to  them.  They  clung 
to  Frithiof  as  he  took  them  downstairs,  and,  catching 
sight  of  Cecil  leaning  back  in  one  of  the  hall  chairs,  they 
made  a  rush  for  her,  and  poured  out  all  their  childish 
fears  as  she  clung  to  them  and  kissed  them  with  all  the 
tenderness  of  a  real  mother. 

"We  don't  want  to  go  and  see  father,"  said  Lance 
stoutly.  "We  had  much  rather  not." 

"  But  you  must  think  that  he  wants  to  see  you  very 
much,"  said  Cecil.  "He  remembers  you  quite  well, 
though  you  have  forgotten  him  ;  and  now  that  he  has 
come  back  to  you,  you  must  both  make  him  very  happy, 
and  love  him." 

"I  don't  like  him  at  all,"  said  Gwen  perversely. 

"  It  is  silly  and  wrong  to  say  that,"  said  Cecil.  "  You 
will  love  him  when  you  see  him." 

"I  love  you,"  said  Gwen  with  a  vehement  hug. 

"  Have  you  only   room  for  one  person  in  your  heart?  " 

"  I  rather  love  Herr  Frithiof,"  said  Gwen,  glancing  up 
at  him  through  her  eyelashes. 

They  both  smiled,  and  Cecil,  seeing  that  little  would 
be  gained  by  discussing  the  matter,  got  up  and  led  them 
toward  the  drawing-room,  her  pale,  brave  face  contrasting 
curiously  with  Gwen's  rosy  cheeks  and  rebellious  little 
air. 

Mr.  Boniface  sat  talking  to  the  new-comer  kindly 
enough.  They  both  rose  as  Cecil  and  the  children 
entered. 

"This  is  my  daughter,"  said  Mr.  Boniface. 

And  Cecil  shook  hands  with  the  ex-prisoner,  and  looked 
a  little  anxiously  into  his  face. 

He  was  rather  a  pleasant-looking  man  offive-and-thirty, 
and  so  much  like  Lance  that  she  could  not  help  feeling 
kindly  toward  him.  She  hoped  that  the  children  would 
behave  well,  and  glanced  at  Gwen  nervously. 

But  Gwen,  who  was  a  born  flirt,  speedily  forgot  her 
dislike,  and  was  quite  willing  to  meet  the  stranger's 
advances  half-way.  In  two  minutes'  time  she  was 
contentedly  sitting  on  his  knee,  while  Lance  stood  shyly 
by,  studying  his  father  with  a  gravity  which  was,  however, 
inclined  to  be  friendly  and  not  critical.  When  he  had 


358  A  IT  A  RD  Y  NORSEMAN. 

quite  satisfied  himself  he  went  softly  away,  returning 
before  long  with  a  toy  pistol  and  a  boat,  which  he  put 
into  his  father's  hands. 

"What  is  this?  "  said  Mr.  Grantley. 

"It's  my  favorite  toys,"  said  Lance.  "I  wanted  to 
show  them  you.  Quick,  Gwen,  run  and  find  your  doll 
for  father." 

He  seemed  touched  and  pleased  ;  and  indeed  they  were 
such  well-trained  children  that  any  parent  must  have 
been  proud  of  them.  To  this  ex-convict,  who  for  years 
had  been  cut  off  from  all  child-life,  the  mere  sight  of  them 
was  refreshing.  He  seemed  quite  inclined  to  sit  there  and 
play  with  them  for  the  rest  of  the  evening.  And  Cecil  sat 
by  in  a  sort  of  dream,  hearing  of  the  new  home  that  was 
to  be  made  for  the  children  in  British  Columbia — where 
land  was  to  be  had  for  a  penny  an  acre,  and  where  one 
could  live  on  grapes  and  peaches,  and  all  the  most 
delicious  fruits.  Then,  presently,  with  many  expressions 
of  gratitude  for  all  that  had  been  done  for  the  children, 
Mr.  Grantley  took  leave,  and  she  led  the  little  ones  up  to 
bed,  leaving  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Boniface  to  go  out  into  the 
garden  and  tell  Roy  and  Sigrid  what  had  passed. 

"  How  does  Cecil  take  it  ? "  asked  Sigrid  anxiously. 

"Very  quietly,"  was  the  reply  ;  "but  I  am  afraid  she 
feels  losing  them  so  soon." 

Frithiof,  with  an  uncomfortable  recollection  of  what 
had  passed  in  the  garden,  doubted  if  Mrs.  Boniface  fully 
understood  the  depth  of  Cecil's  feelings.  He  left  them 
talking  over  the  drawbacks  and  advantages  of  colonial 
life,  and  went  in  to  his  translating  ;  but  though  he  forgot 
the  actual  cause,  he  was  conscious  all  the  time  of  a 
disturbing  influence,  and  even  while  absorbed  in  his  work, 
had  an  irritating  sense  that  something  had  gone  wrong, 
and  that  trouble  was  in  the  air. 

He  went  to  bed  and  dreamed  all  night  of  Cecil.  She 
haunted  him  persistently  ;  sometimes  he  saw  her  leaning 
back  on  the  garden  seat,  with  the  narcissus  just  falling 
from  her  hand,  sometimes  he  saw  her  with  the  children 
clinging  to  her  as  they  had  done  in  the  hall. 

From  that  time  forward  a  great  change  came  over  his 
attitude  toward  her.  Hitherto  his  friendship  with  her 
had,  it  must  be  owned,  been  chiefly  selfish.  He  had 
always  heartily  liked  her,  had  enjoyed  being  at  Rowan 
Tree  House,  had  fallen  into  the  habit  of  discussing  many 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  359 

things  with  her  and  valuing  her  opinion,  but  it  was 
always  of  himself  that  he  had  thought — of  what  she  could 
do  for  him,  of  what  he  could  learn  from  her,  of  how  much 
enjoyment  he  could  get  from  her  music  and  her  frank 
friendliness,  and  her  easy  way  of  talking.  It  was  not 
that  he  was  more  selfish  than  most  men,  but  that  they  had 
learned  really  to  know  each  other  at  a  time  when  his 
heart  was  so  paralyzed  by  Blanche's  faithlessness,  so 
crushed  by  the  long  series  of  misfortunes,  that  giving- 
had  been  out  of  the  question  for  him,  he  could  merely 
take  and  make  the  most  of  whatever  she  could  give  him. 

But  now  all  this  was  altered.  The  old  wounds,  though 
to  the  end  of  his  life  they  must  leave  a  scar,  were  really 
healed.  He  had  lived  through  a  great  deal,  and  had  lived 
in  a  way  that  had  developed  the  best  points  in  his  character. 
He  had  now  a  growingly  keen  appreciation  for  all  that 
was  really  beautiful — for  purity,  and  strength,  and  ten- 
derness, and  for  that  quality  which  it  is  the  fashion  to  call 
Altruism,  but  which  he,  with  his  hatred  of  affectation  in 
words,  called  goodness. 

As  he  thought  of  Cecil  during  those  days  he  began  to 
see  more  and  more  clearly  the  full  force  of  her  character. 
Hitherto  he  had  quietly  taken  her  for  granted  ;  there  was 
nothing  very  striking  about  her,  nothing  in  the  least 
obtrusive.  Perhaps  if  it  had  not  been  for  that  strange 
little  scene  in  the  garden  he  would  never  have  taken  the 
trouble  to  think  of  her  actual  character. 

Through  the  week  that  followed  he  watched  her  with 
keen  interest  and  sympathy.  That  she  should  be  in 
trouble — at  any  rate,  in  trouble  that  was  patent  to  all  the 
world — was  something  entirely  new.  Their  positions 
seemed  to  be  reversed ;  and  he  found  himself  spontane- 
ously doing  everything  he  could  think  of  to  please  and 
help  her.  Her  trouble  seemed  to  draw  them  together  ; 
and  to  his  mind  there  was  something  very  beautiful  in 
her  passionate  devotion  to  the  children — for  it  was  a 
devotion  that  never  in  the  least  bordered  on  sentimentality. 
She  went  through  everything  very  naturally,  having  a 
good  cry  now  and  then,  but  taking  care  not  to  make  the 
children  unhappy  at  the  prospect  of  the  parting,  and 
arranging  everything  that  they  could  possibly  want,  not 
only  on  the  voyage,  but  for  some  time  to  come  in  their 
new  home. 

' '  She  is  so  plucky  !  "  thought  Frithiof  to  himself  with  a 


360  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

thrill  of  admiration.  For  he  was  not  at  all  the  sort  of  man 
to  admire  helplessness,  or  languor,  or  cowardice ;  they 
seemed  to  him  as  unlovely  in  a  woman  as  in  a  man. 

At  last  the  actual  parting-  came.  Cecil  would  have 
liked  to  go  down  to  the  steamer  and  see  the  children  start, 
but  on  thinking  it  over  she  decided  that  it  would  be  better 
not. 

"They  will  feel  saying  good-bye,"  she  said,  "and  it 
had  better  be  here.  Then  they  will  have  the  long  drive 
with  you  to  the  docks,  and  by  that  time  they  will  be  all 
right  again,  and  will  be  able  to  enjoy  the  steamer  and  all 
the  novelty." 

Mr.  Boniface  was  obliged  to  own  that  there  was  sound 
common  sense  in  this  plan  ;  so  in  their  own  nursery, 
where  for  nearly  five  years  she  had  taken  such  care  of 
them,  Cecil  dressed  the  two  little  ones  for  the  last  time, 
brushed  out  Gwen's  bright  curls,  coaxed  Lance  into  his 
reefer,  and  then,  no  longer  able  to  keep  back  her  tears, 
clung  to  them  in  the  last  terrible  parting. 

"Oh,  Cecil,  dear,  darling  Cecil,"  sobbed  Lance,  "I 
don't  want  to  go  away  ;  I  don't  care  for  the  steamer  one 
bit." 

She  was  on  the  hearthrug,  with  both  children  nestled 
close  to  her,  the  thought  of  the  unknown  world  that  they 
were  going  out  into,  and  the  difficult  future  awaiting 
them,  came  sweeping  over  her ;  just  as  they  were  then, 
innocent,  and  unconscious,  and  happy,  she  could  never 
see  them  again. 

"  Be  good,  Lance,"  she  said,  through  her  tears.  "  Prom- 
ise me  always  to  try  to  be  good." 

"I  promise,"  said  the  little  fellow,  hugging  her  with  all 
his  might.  "And  we  shall  come  back  as  soon  as  ever 
we're  grown  up — we  shall  both  come  back." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Cecil,  "you  must  come  back." 

But  in  her  heart  she  knew  that  however  pleasant  the 
meeting  in  future  years  might  be,  it  could  not  be  like  the 
present ;  as  children,  and  as  her  own  special  charge,  she 
was  parting  with  them  forever. 

The  carriage  drove  up  to  the  door,  there  came  sounds 
of  hurrying  feet  and  fetching  and  carrying  of  luggage, 
Cecil  took  them  downstairs,  and  then,  with  a  last  long 
embrace  from  Lance,  and  kisses  interspersed  with  sobs 
from  Gwen,  she  gave  them  up  to  her  father,  and  turned 
to  take  leave  of  their  nurse. 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  361 

"I  will  take  great  care  of  them,  miss,"  said  the  maid, 
herself  crying,  "and  you  shall  hear  from  me  regularly." 

In  another  minute  the  carriage  had  driven  away,  and 
Cecil  was  left  to  make  the  best  she  might  of  what  she 
could  not  but  feel,  at  first,  a  desolate  life. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

HARDLY  had  the  bustle  of  departure  quieted  down  at 
Rowan  Tree  House  when  a  fresh  anxiety  arose.  Herr 
Sivertsen,  who  had  for  some  time  been  out  of  health,  was 
siezed  with  a  fatal  illness,  and  for  three  days  and  nights 
Frithiof  was  unable  to  leave  him  ;  on  the  third  night  the 
old  Norseman  passed  quietly  away,  conscious  to  the  last 
minute,  and  with  his  latest  breath  inveighing  against  the 
degeneracy  of  the  age. 

"Frithiof  is  a  rare  exception,"  he  said,  turning  his  dim 
eyes  toward  Sigrid,  who  stood  by  the  bedside.  "And  to 
him  I  leave  all  that  I  have.  As  for  the  general  run  of 
young  men  nowadays — I  wash  my  hands  of  them — a 
worthless  set — a  degenerate " 

His  voice  died  away,  he  sighed  deeply,  caught  Frithiof  s 
hand  in  his,  and  fell  back  on  the  pillow  lifeless. 

When  the  will  was  read  it  affirmed  that  Herr  Sivertsen, 
who  had  no  relations  living,  had  indeed  left  his  property 
to  Frithiof.  The  will  was  terse  and  eccentric  in  the  ex- 
treme, and  seemed  like  one  of  the  old  man's  own 
speeches,  ending  with  the  familiar  words,  "  for  he  is  one 
of  the  few  honest  and  hard-working  men  in  a  despicable 
generation." 

Naturally  there  was  only  one  way  to  which  Frithiof 
could  think  of  putting  his  legacy.  Every  penny  of  it  went 
straight  to  his  debt  fund.  Mr.  Horner  heard  of  it  and 
groaned.  "What!"  he  exclaimed,  "pay  away  the  prin- 
cipal ;  hand  over  thousands  of  pounds  in  payment  of 
debts  that  are  not  even  his  own — debts  that  don't  affect 
his  name  !  He  ought  to  put  the  money  into  this  business, 
Boniface  ;  it  would  only  be  a  fitting  way  of  showing  you 
his  gratitude. " 

"  He  put  into  the  business  what  I  value  far  more,"  said 
Mr.  Boniface.  "He  put  into  it  his  honest  Norwegian 


362  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN: 

heart,  and  this  legacy  will  save  him  many  years  of  hard, 
weary  work  and  anxiety." 

When  summer  came  it  was  arranged  that  they  should 
go  to  Norway,  and  Frithiof  went  about  his  work  with  such 
an  air  of  relief  and  contentment,  that  had  it  not  been  for 
one  hidden  anxiety  Sigrid's  happiness  would  have  been 
complete. 

Her  marriage  had  been  so  extremely  happy  that  she  was 
less  than  ever  satisfied  with  the  prospect  that  seemed  to 
lie  before  Cecil.  The  secret  which  she  had  found  out  at 
the  time  of  Frithiofs  disgrace  weighed  upon  her  now  a 
good  deal,  she  almost  wished  that  Roy  would  guess  it  ; 
but  no  one  else  seemed  to  have  any  suspicion  of  it  at  all, 
and  Sigrid  of  course  could  not  speak,  partly  because  she 
was  Frithiofs  sister,  partly  because  she  had  a  strong  feel- 
ing that  to  allude  to  that  matter  would  be  to  betray  Cecil 
unfairly.  Had  she  been  a  match-maker  she  might  have 
done  endless  harm  ;  had  she  been  a  reckless  talker  she 
would  probably  have  defeated  her  own  ends  ;  but  happily 
she  was  neither,  and  though  at  times  she  longed  to  give 
Frithiof  a  good  shaking,  when  she  saw  him  entirely  ab- 
sorbed in  his  work  and  blind  to  all  else,  she  managed  to 
keep  her  own  counsel,  and  to  await,  though  somewhat 
impatiently,  whatever  time  should  bring.  One  evening 
it  chanced  that  the  brother  and  sister  were  alone  for  a  few 
minutes  during  the  intervals  of  an  amateur  concert,  which 
Cecil  had  been  asked  to  get  up  at  Whitechapel. 

"  How  do  you  think  it  has  gone  off?  "  said  Sigrid,  as  he 
sat  down  beside  her  in  the  little  inner  room. 

"Capitally  ;  Cecil  ought  to  be  congratulated,''  he  replied. 
"I  am  glad  she  has  had  it  on  hand,  for  it  must  have  taken 
her  thoughts  off  the  children." 

"  Yes,"  said  Sigrid;  "anything  that  does  that  is  worth 
something." 

"Yet  she  seems  to  me  to  have  plenty  of  interests," 
said  Frithiof.  "She  is  never  idle,  she  is  a  great 
reader. " 

"Do  you  think  books  would  ever  satisfy  a  woman 
like  Cecil  ?  "  exclaimed  Sigrid  with  a  touch  of  scorn  in  her 
voice. 

He  looked  at  her  quickly,  struck  by  something  unusual 
in  her  tone,  and  not  at  all  understanding  the  little  flush  of 
hot  color  that  had  risen  in  her  face. 

"Oh,"  he  said  teasingly,  "you  think  that  every  one  has 


A  HARD  Y  NORSEMAN.  363 

your  ideal  of  happiness,  and  cannot  manage  to  exist  with- 
out the  equivalent  of  Roy  and  baby,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
house  and  garden." 

"  I  don't  think  anything  of  the  sort,"  she  protested,  re- 
lieved by  his  failure  to  appropriate  to  himself  her  rather 
unguarded  speech. 

"Norway  will  be  the  best  thing  in  the  world  for  her," 
he  said.  "It  is  the  true  panacea  for  all  evils.  Can  you 
believe  that  in  less  than  a  week  we  shall  actually  be  at 
Bergen  once  more  !  " 

And  Sigrid,  looking  at  his  eager,  blue  eyes,  and  remem- 
bering his  brave  struggles  and  long  exile,  could  not  find 
it  in  her  heart  to  be  angry  with  him  any  more.  Besides, 
he  had  been  very  thoughtful  for  Cecil  just  lately,  and 
seemed  to  have  set  his  heart  on  making  the  projected  tour 
in  Norway  as  nearly  perfect  as  might  be.  To  Sigrid  there 
was  a  serious  drawback — she  was  obliged  to  leave  her 
baby  behind  in  England  ;  however,  after  the  first  wrench 
of  parting  she  managed  to  enjoy  herself  very  well,  and 
Mrs.  Boniface,  who  was  to  spend  the  six  weeks  of  their 
absence  in  Devonshire  with  some  of  her  cousins,  prom- 
ised to  take  every  possible  care  of  her  little  grandson,  to 
telegraph  now  and  then,  and  to  write  at  every  opportunity. 
It  had  been  impossible  for  Mr.  Boniface  to  leave  London, 
but  the  two  younger  members  of  the  firm,  with  Sigrid, 
Cecil,  and  little  Swanhild,  made  a  very  merry  party,  and 
Frithiof,  at  length  free  from  the  load  of  his  father's  debts, 
seemed  suddenly  to  grow  ten  years  younger.  Indeed, 
Sigrid,  who  for  so  long  had  seen  her  hopes  for  Cecil 
defeated  by  the  cares  and  toils  brought  by  these  same 
debts,  began  to  fear  that  now  his  extreme  happiness 
in  his  freedom  would  quite  suffice  to  him,  and  that  he 
would  desire  nothing  further. 

Certainly,  for  many  years  he  had  known  nothing  like 
the  happiness  of  that  voyage,  with  its  bright  expectation, 
its  sense  of  relief.  To  look  back  on  the  feverish  excite- 
ment of  his  voyage  to  England  five  years  before  was  like 
looking  back  into  some  other  life  ;  and  if  the  world  was  a 
graver  and  sadder  place  to  him  now  than  it  had  been  long 
ago,  he  had  at  any  rate  learned  that  life  was  not  limited 
to  three-score  years  and  ten,  and  had  gained  a  far  deeper 
happiness  of  which  no  one  could  rob  him.  On  the  Wed- 
nesday night  he  slept  little,  and  very  early  in  the  morn- 
ing was  up  on  the  wet  and  shining  deck  eagerly  looking 


364  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

at  the  first  glimpse  of  his  own  country.  His  heart 
bounded  within  him  when  the  red  roofs  and  gables  of 
Stavanger  came  into  sight,  and  he  was  the  very  first  to 
leap  off  the  steamer,  far  too  impatient  to  touch  Norwe- 
gian soil  once  more  to  dream  of  waiting  for  the  more 
leisurely  members  of  the  party.  The  quiet  little  town 
seemed  still  fast  asleep,  he  scarcely  met  a  soul  in  the 
primitive  streets  with  their  neat  wooden  houses  and 
their  delightful  look  of  home.  In  a  rapture  of  happiness 
he  walked  on  drinking  down  deep  breaths  of  the  fresh 
morning  air,  until  coming  at  length  to  the  cathedral  he 
caught  sight  of  an  old  woman  standing  at  the  door, 
key  in  hand. 

He  stopped  and  had  a  long  conversation  with  her  for 
the  mere  pleasure  of  hearing  his  native  tongue  once  more  ; 
he  made  her  happy  with  a  kroner  and  enjoyed  her  grate- 
ful shake  of  the  hand,  then  partly  to  please  her,  entered 
the  cathedral.  In  the  morning  light,  the  severe  beauty  of 
the  old  Norman  nave  was  very  impressive  ;  he  knelt  for 
a  minute  or  two,  glad  to  have  the  uninterrupted  quiet  of 
the  great  place  before  it  had  been  reached  by  any  of  the 
tourists.  It  came  into  his  mind  how,  long  ago,  his  father's 
last  words  to  him  had  been  "A  hc/ppy  return  to  Gammle 
Norge,"  how  for  so  long  those  words  had  seemed  to  him 
the  bitterest  mockery — an  utter  impossibility — and  how, 
at  last  in  a  very  strange  and  different  way,  they  had  come 
true.  He  had  come  back,  and,  spite  of  all  that  had  inter- 
vened, he  was  happy. 

Later  in  the  day,  when  they  slowly  steamed  into  Ber- 
gen harbor  and  saw  once  more  the  place  that  he  had  so 
often  longed  for,  with  its  dear  familiar  houses  and  spires, 
its  lovely  surrounding  mountains,  his  happiness  was  not 
without  a  strong  touch  of  pain.  For  after  all,  though  the 
place  remained,  his  home  had  gone  forever,  and  though 
Herr  Gronvold  stood  waiting  for  them  on  the  landing  quay 
with  the  heartiest  of  welcomes,  yet  he  could  not  but  feel  a 
terrible  blank. 

Cecil  read  his  face  in  a  moment,  and  understood  just 
what  he  was  feeling. 

"Come  and  let  us  look  for  the  luggage,"  she  said  to 
Roy,  wishing  to  leave  the  three  Norwegians  to  themselves 
for  a  few  minutes. 

"Rather  different  to  our  last  arrival  here,"  said  Roy 
brightly.  He  was  so  very  happy  that  it  was  hardly  likely 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  365 

he  should  think  just  then  of  other  people.  But  as  Cecil 
gave  the  assent  which  seemed  so  matter-of-fact  her  eyes 
filled  with  tears,  for  she  could  not  help  thinking  of  all  the 
brightness  of  that  first  visit,  of  Frithiof  with  his  boyish 
gayety  and  light-heartedness,  of  the  kindness  and  hospi- 
tality of  his  father,  of  the  pretty  villa  in  Kalvedalen,  of 
poor  Blanche  in  her  innocent  girlhood. 

They  were  all  to  stay  for  a  few  days  with  the  Gron voids, 
and  there  was  now  plenty  of  room  for  them,  since  Karen 
and  the  eldest  son  were  married  and  settled  in  homes  oi 
theii  own.  Fru  Gronvold  andSigrid  met  with  the  utmost 
affection,  and  all  the  petty  quarrels  and  vexations  of  the 
past  were  forgotten  ;  indeed,  the  very  first  evening  they 
had  a  hearty  laugh  over  the  recollection  of  their  difference 
of  opinion  about  Torvald  Lundgren. 

"And,  my  dear,"  said  Fru  Gronvold,  who  was  as  usual 
knitting  an  interminable  stocking,  "you  need  not  feel  at  all 
anxious  about  him,  he  is  very  happily  married,  and  I  think, 
yes,  certainly  I  cannot  help  owning,  that  he  manages  his 
household  with  a  firmer  hand  than  would  perhaps  have 
suited  you.  He  has  a  very  pretty  little  wife  who  worships 
the  ground  he  treads  on." 

"Which  you  see  I  could  never  have  done,"  said  Sigrid, 
merrily.  "  Poor  Torvald  !  I  am  very  glad  he  is  happily 
settled.  Frithiof  must  go  and  see  him.  How  do  you 
think  Swanhild  is  looking,  auntie  ?  " 

"Very  well,  and  very  pretty,"  said  Fru  Gronvold. 
"One  would  naturally  suppose  that,  at  her  rather  awk- 
ward age,  she  would  have  lost  her  good  looks,  but  she  is 
as  graceful  as  ever." 

"She  is  a  very  brave,  hard-working  little  woman, "said 
Sigrid.  "I  told  you  that  she  had  begged  so  hard  to  stay 
on  with  Madam  Lechertier  that  we  had  consented.  It 
would  indeed  have  been  hardly  fair  to  take  her  away  aU 
at  once,  when  Madam  had  been  so  kind  and  helpful  to  us  ; 
and  Swanhild  is  very  independent,  you  know,  and  declares 
that  she  must  have  some  sort  of  profession,  and  that  to  be 
a  teacher  of  dancing  is  clearly  her  vocation." 

"  By-and-bye,  when  she  is  grown  up,  she  is  going  to 
keep  my  house,"  said  Frithiof. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Sigrid  ;  "I  shall  never  spare  her,  unless 
it  is  to  get  married ;  you  two  would  never  get  on  all  by 
yourselves.  By-the-bye,  I  am  sure  Cecil  is  keeping  away 
from  us  on  purpose  ;  she  went  off  on  the  plea  of  reading 


366  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN1. 

for  her  half-hour  society,  but  she  has  been  gone  quite  a 
long  time.  Go  and  find  her,  Frithiof,  and  tell  her  we  very 
much  want  her. " 

He  went  out  and  found  Cecil  comfortably  installed  in 
the  dining-room  with  her  book. 

"  Have  you  not  read  enough  ?  "  he  said.  "  We  are  very 
dull  without  you  in  there." 

"I  thought  you  would  have  so  much  to  talk  over  to- 
gether," she  said,  putting  down  her  book  and  lifting  her 
soft  gray  eyes  to  his. 

"  Not  a  bit,"  he  replied  ;  "  we  are  pining  for  music  and 
want  you  to  sing,  if  you  are  not  too  tired.  What  learned 
book  were  you  reading,  after  such  a  journey?  Plato?" 

"A  translation  of  the  'Phaedo,'"  she  said.  "There  is 
such  a  strange  little  bit  here  about  pleasure  being  mixed 
with  pain  always." 

"Oh,  they  had  found  that  out  in  those  days,  had  they  ?  " 
said  Frithiof.  "  Read  the  bit  to  me  ;  for,  to  tell  you  the 
truth,  it  would  fit  in  rather  well  with  this  return  to  Bergen. " 

Cecil  turned  over  the  pages  and  read  the  following 
speech  of  Socrates  : 

"  'How  singular  is  the  thing  called  pleasure,  and  how 
curiously  related  to  pain,  which  might  be  thought  to  be 
the  opposite  of  it  ;  for  they  never  come  t  man  together, 
and  yet  he  who  pursues  either  of  hem  is  generally  com- 
pelled to  take  the  other.  They  are  two,  and  yet  they  grow 
together  out  of  one  head  or  stem  ;  and  I  cannot  help 
thinking  that  if  y£sop  had  noticed  them  he  would  have 
made  a  fable  about  God  trying  to  reconcile  their  strife, 
and  when  he  could  not,  he  fastened  their  heads  together  ; 
and  this  is  the  reason  why,  when  one  comes  the  other 
follows. ' " 

"  It's  odd  to  think  that  all  these  hundreds  of  years 
people  have  been  racking  their  brains  to  find  some  ex- 
planation of  the  great  problem,"  said  Frithiof,  "that  gen- 
eration after  generation  of  unsatisfied  people  have  lived 
and  died." 

"A  poor  woman  from  East  London  once  answered  the 
problem  to  me  quite  unconsciously,"  said  Cecil.  "She 
was  down  in  the  country  for  change  of  air,  and  she  said 
to  me,  '  It's  just  like  Paradise  here,  miss,  and  if  it  could 
always  go  on  it  would  be  heaven.'" 

He  sighed. 

"Come  and  sing  me   '  Princessen,'"  he  said,  "if  you 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  367 

are  really  not  too  tired.     I  am  very  much  in  the  mood  of 
that  restless  lady  in  the  poem." 

And,  in  truth,  often  during  those  days  at  Bergen  he  was 
haunted  by  the  wierd  ending  of  the  song — 

"  '  What  do  I  then  want,  my  God  ? '  she  cried. 
Then  the  sun  went  down." 

He  had  a  good  deal  of  business  to  see  to,  and  the  clearing 
off  of  the  debts  was,  of  course,  not  without  a  considerable 
pleasure  ;  he  greatly  enjoyed,  too,  the  hearty  welcome  of 
his  old  friends  ;  but  there  was  always  something  wanting. 
For  every  street,  every  view,  every  inch  of  the  place  was 
associated  with  his  father,  and,  dearly  as  he  loved  Bergen, 
he  felt  that  he  could  not  have  borne  to  live  in  it  again. 
He  seemed  to  find  his  chief  happiness  in  lionizing  Cecil, 
and  sometimes,  when  with  her,  the  pain  of  the  return  was 
forgotten,  and  he  so  enjoyed -her  admiration  of  his  native 
city  that  he  no  longer  felt  the  terrible  craving  for  his 
father's  presence.  They  went  to  Nestun,  and  wandered 
about  in  the  woods  ;  they  took  Cecil  to  see  the  quaint  old 
wooden  church  from  Fortun  ;  they  had  a  merry  picnic 
at  Fjessanger,  and  an  early  expedition  to  the  Bergen  fish 
market,  determined  that  Cecil  should  enjoy  that  picturesque 
scene  with  the  weather-beaten  fishermen,  the  bargaining 
housewives  with  their  tin  pails,  the  boats  laden  with  their 
shining  wealth  of  fishes.  Again  and  again,  too,  they 
walked  up  the  beautiful  fjddveien  to  gain  that  wonderful 
bird's-eye  view  over  the  town  and  the  harbor  and  the 
lakes.  But  perhaps  no  one  was  sorry  when  the  visit  came 
to  an  end,  and  they  were  once  more  on  their  travels, 
going  by  sea  to  Molde  and  thence  to  Naes. 

It  was  quite  late  one  evening  that  they  steamed  down 
the  darkening  Romsdalsfjord.  The  great  Romsdalshorn 
reared  its  dark  head  solemnly  into  the  calm  sky,  and 
everywhere  peace  seemed  to  reign.  The  steamer  was 
almost  empty  ;  Frithiof  and  Cecil  stood  alone  at  the  fore- 
castle end,  silently  reveling  in  the  exquisite  view  before 
them. 

A  thousand  thoughts  were  seething  in  Frithiofs  mind  ; 
that  first  glimpse  of  the  Romsdalshorn  had  taken  him  back 
to  the  great  crisis  of  his  life  ;  in  strange  contrast  to  that 
peaceful  scene  he  had  a  vision  of  a  crowded  London 
street  ;  in  yet  stranger  contrast  to  his  present  happiness 
and  relief  he  once  more  looked  into  the  past,  and  thought 


368  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

of  his  hopeless  misery,  of  his  deadly  peril,  of  the  struggle 
he  had  gone  through,  of  the  chance  which  had  made  him 
pause  before  the  picture  shop,  and  of  his  recognition  of 
the  painting  of  his  native  mountains.  Then  he  thought 
of  his  first  approach  to  Rowan  Tree  House  on  that  dusky 
November  afternoon,  and  he  thought  of  his  strange  dream 
of  the  beasts,  and  the  precipice,  and  the  steep  mountain 
side,  and  the  opening  door  with  the  Madonna  and  Child 
framed  in  dazzling  light.  Just  at  that  moment  from  be- 
hind the  dark  purple  mountains  rose  the  great,  golden-red 
moon.  It  was  a  sight  never  to  be  forgotten,  and  the  glow 
and  glamour  cast  by  it  over  the  whole  scene  was  indescrib- 
able. Veblungsnaes  with  its  busy  wooden  pier  and  its 
dusky  houses,  with  here  and  there  a  light  twinkling  from 
a  window  ;  the  Romsdalshorn  with  its  lofty  peak,  and  the 
beautiful  valley  beyond  bathed  in  that  sort  of  dim  bright- 
ness and  misty  radiance  which  can  be  given  by  nothing 
but  the  rising  moon. 

Frithiof  turned  and  looked  at  Cecil. 

She  had  taken  off  her  hat  that  she  might  better  enjoy 
the  soft  evening  breeze  which  was  ruffling  up  her  fair 
hair  ;  her  blue  dress  was  one  of  those  shades  which  are 
called  "new,"  but  which  are  not  unlike  the  old  blue  in 
which  artists  have  always  loved  to  paint  the  Madonna  ; 
her  face  was  very  quiet  and  happy  ;  the  soft  evening  light 
seemed  to  etherealize  her. 

"You  will  never  know  how  much  I  owe  to  you,"  he 
said  impetuously.  "  Had  it  not  been  for  all  that  you  did 
for  me  in  the  past  I  could  not  possibly  have  been  here 
to-night." 

She  had  been  looking  toward  Veblungsnaes,  but  now 
she  turned  to  him  with  a  glance  so  beautiful,  so  raptur- 
ously happy,  that  it  seemed  to  waken  new  life  within 
him.  He  was  so  amazed  at  the  strength  of  the  passion 
which  suddenly  took  possession  of  him  that  for  a  time  he 
could  hardly  believe  he  was  in  real  waking  existence  ; 
this  magical  evening  light,  this  exquisite  fjord  with  its 
well-known  mountains,  might  well  be  the  scenery  of 
some  dream  ;  and  Cecil  did  not  speak  to  him,  she  merely 
gave  him  that  one  glance  and  smile,  and  then  stood  be- 
side him  silently,  as  though  there  were  no  need  of  speech 
between  them. 

He  was  glad  she  was  silent,  for  he  dreaded  lest  any- 
thing; should  rouse  him  and  take  him  back  to  the  dull, 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN,  369 

cold  past — the  past  in  which  for  so  long  he  had  lived 
with  his  heart  half  dead,  upheld  only  by  the  intention  of 
redeeming  his  father's  honor.  To  go  back  to  that  state 
would  be  terrible  ;  moreover,  the  aim  no  longer  existed. 
The  debts  were  paid — his  work  was  over,  and  yet  his  life 
lay  before  him. 

Was  it  to  be  merely  a  business  life — a  long  round  of 
duty  work  ?  or  was  it  possible  that  love  might  glorify  the 
every-day  round — that  even  for  him  this  intense  happi- 
ness, which  as  yet  he  could  hardly  believe  to  be  real, 
might  actually  dawn  ? 

And  the  steamer  glided  on  over  the  calm  moonlit  waters, 
and  drew  nearer  to  Veblungsnaes,  where  an  eager-faced 
crowd  waited  for  the  great  event  of  the  day.  A  sudden 
terror  seized  Frithiof  that  some  one  would  come  to  their 
end  of  the  steamer  and  break  the  spell  that  bound  him, 
and  then  the  very  fear  itself  made  him  realize  that  this 
was  no  dream,  but  a  great  reality.  Cecil  was  beside 
him,  and  he  loved  her — a  new  era  had  begun  in  his  life. 
He  loved  her,  and  grudged  whatever  could  interfere  with 
that  strange  sense  of  nearness  to  her  and  of  bliss  in  the 
consciousness  which  had  suddenly  changed  his  whole 
world. 

But  no  one  came  near  them.  Still  they  stood  there — 
side  by  side,  and  the  steamer  moved  on  peacefully  once 
more,  the  silvery  track  still  marking  the  calm  fjord  till 
they  reached  the  little  boat  hat  was  to  land  them  at 
Naes.  He  wished  that  they  could  have  gone  on  for 
hours,  for  as  yet  the  mere  consciousness  of  his  own  love 
satisfied  him — he  wanted  nothing  but  the  rapture  of  life 
after  death — of  brightness  after  gloom.  When  it  was  no 
longer  possible  to  prolong  that  strange,  weird  calm,  he 
went,  like  a  man  half  awake,  :o  see  after  the  luggage,  and 
presently,  with  an  odd,  dazzled  feeling  found  himself  on 
the  shore,  where  Herr  Lossius,  the  landlord,  stood  to 
welcome  them. 

"Which  is  the  hotel?"  asked  Roy. 

And  Herr  Lossius  replied  in  his  quaint,  careful  English, 
"It  is  yonder,  sir — that  house  just  under  the  moon." 

"Did  you  ever  hear  such  a  poetical  direction?"  said 
Cecil,  smiling  as  they  walked  up  the  road  together. 

"It  suits  the  evening  very  well,"  said  Frithiof.      "  I  am 
glad  he  did  not  say,    '  First  turning  to  your  right,  second 
to  your  left,  and  keep  straight  on,'  like  a  Londoner, 
24 


370  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

But  the  "house  under  the  moon,"  though  comfortable 
enough,  did  not  prove  a  good  sleeping-place.  All  the 
night  long  Frithiof  lay  broad  awake  in  his  quaint  room, 
and  at  length,  weary  of  staring  at  the  picture  of  the  stag 
painted  on  the  window-blind,  he  drew  it  up  and  lay  look- 
ing out  at  the  dark  Romsdalshorn,  for  the  bed  was  placed 
across  the  window,  and  commanded  a  beautiful  view. 

He  could  think  of  nothing  but  Cecil,  of  the  strange, 
new  insight  that  had  come  to  him  so  suddenly,  of  the 
marvel  that,  having  known  her  so  long  and  so  intimately, 
he  had  only  just  realized  the  beauty  of  her  character,  with 
its  tender,  womanly  grace,  its  quiet  strength,  its  stead- 
fastness, and  repose.  Then  came  a  wave  of  anxious 
doubt  that  drove  sleep  farther  than  ever  from  him.  It 
was  no  longer  enough  to  be  conscious  of  his  love  for  her. 
He  began  to  wonder  whether  it  was  in  the  least  probable 
that  she  could  ever  care  for  him.  Knowing  the  whole  of 
his  past  life,  knowing  his  faults  so  well,  was  it  likely  that 
she  would  ever  dream  of  accepting  his  love  ? 

He  fell  into  great  despondency  ;  but  the  recollection  of 
that  sweet,  bright  glance  which  she  had  given  him  in 
reply  to  his  impetuous  burst  of  gratitude,  reassured  him  ; 
and  when,  later  on,  he  met  her  at  breakfast  his  doubts 
were  held  at  bay,  and  his  hopes  raised,  not  by  anything 
that  she  did  or  said,  but  by  her  mere  presence. 

Whether  Sigrid  at  all  guessed  at  the  state  of  affairs  and 
arranged  accordingly,  or  whether  it  was  a  mere  chance,  it 
so  happened  that  for  the  greater  part  of  that  day  as  they 
traveled  through  the  beautiful  Romsdal,  Frithiof  and  Cecil 
were  together. 

"  What  will  you  do  ?  "  said  Cecil  to  herself,  "  when  all 
this  is  over  ?  How  will  you  go  back  to  ordinary  life  when 
the  tour  is  ended  ?  " 

But  though  she  tried  in  this  way  to  take  the  edge  off  her 
pleasure  she  could  not  do  it.  Afterward  might  take  care 
of  itself.  There  was  no  possibility  of  realizing  it  now,  she 
would  enjoy  to  the  full  just  the  present  that  was  hers,  the 
long  talks  with  Frithiof,  the  delightful  sense  of  fellowship 
with  him,  the  mutual  enjoyment  of  that  exquisite  valley. 

And  so  they  drove  on,  past  Aak,  with  its  lovely  trees 
and  its  rippling  river,  past  the  lovely  Romsdalshorn,  past 
the  Troltinderne,  with  their  weird  outline  looming  up 
against  the  blue  sky  like  the  battlements  and  pinnacles  of 
some  magic  city.  About  the  middle  of  the  day  they 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 


371 


reached  Horgheim,  where  it  had  been  arranged  that  they 
should  spend  the  night.  Frithiof  was  in  a  mood  to  find 
everything  beautiful,  he  even  admired  the  rather  bare- 
looking  posting-station,  just  a  long  brown,  wooden  house 
with  a  high  flight  of  steps  to  the  door  and  seats  on  either 
side.  On  the  doorstep  lay  a  fine  white  and  tabby  cat, 
which  he  declared  he  could  remember  years  before  when 
they  had  visited  the  Romsdal. 

"  And  that  is  very  possible,"  said  the  landlady,  with  a 
pleased  look.  "For  we  have  had  him  these  fourteen 
years. " 

Every  one  crowded  round  to  look  at  this  antiquated 
cat. 

"What  is  his  name?  "  asked  Cecil,  speaking  in  Norse. 

"His  name  is  Mons,"  said  the  landlady,  "  Mons  Hor- 
gheim." 

They  all  laughed  at  the  thought  of  a  cat  with  a  sur- 
name, and  then  came  a  general  dispersion  in  quest  of 
rooms.  Cecil  and  Swanhild  chose  one  which  looked  out 
across  a  grassy  slope  to  the  river  ;  the  Rauma  just  at  this 
part  is  very  still,  and  of  a  deep  green  color  ;  beyond  were 
jagged,  gray  mountains  and  the  moraine  of  a  glacier  cov- 
ered here  and  there  with  birch  and  juniper.  Half-a-dozen 
little  houses  with  grass-grown  roofs  nestled  at  the  foot, 
and  near  them  were  sweet-smelling  hayfields  and  patches 
of  golden  corn. 

They  dined  merrily  on  salmon,  wild  strawberries,  and 
cream,  and  then  a  walk  was  proposed.  Cecil,  however, 
excused  herself,  saying  that  she  had  letters  to  write  home, 
and  so  it  chanced  that  Frithirf  and  Sigrid  had  what  did 
not  often  fall  to  their  lot  in  those  days,  the  chance  of  a 
quiet  talk. 

"What  is  wrong  with  you,  dear  old  boy  ?  "  she  said  ; 
for  since  they  had  left  Horgheim  she  could  not  but  notice 
that  he  had  grown  grave  and  absorbed. 

"Nothing,"  he  said  with  rather  a  forced  laugh.  But, 
though  he  tried  to  resume  his  usual  manner  and  talked 
with  her  and  teased  her  playfully,  she  knew  that  he  had 
something  on  his  mind,  and  half-hopefully,  half-fearfully, 
made  one  more  attempt  to  win  his  confidence. 

"  Let  us  rest  here  in  the  shade,"  she  said,  settling  her- 
self comfortably  under  a  silver  birch.  "Roy  and  Swan- 
hild walk  at  such  a  pace  that  I  think  we  will  let  them 
have  the  first  view  of  the  Mongefos, " 


372  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN: 

He  threw  himself  down  on  the  grass  beside  her,  and  for 
a  time  there  was  silence. 

"You  did  not  sleep  last  night,"  she  said  presently. 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?  "  he  said,  his  color  rising  a 
little. 

"  Oh,  I  know  it  by  your  forehead.  You  were  worrying 
over  something.  Come,  confess. " 

He  sat  up  and  began  to  speak  abruptly. 

"I  want  to  ask  you  a  question,"  he  said,  looking  up  the 
valley  beyond  her  and  avoiding  her  eyes.  "  Do  you  think 
a  man  has  any  business  to  offer  to  a  woman  a  love  which 
is  not  his  first  passion  ?  " 

"At  one  time  I  thought  not, "  said  Sigrid.  "But  as  I 
grew  older  and  understood  things  more  it  seemed  to  me 
different.  I  think  there  would  be  few  marriages  in  the 
world  if  we  made  a  rule  of  that  sort.  And  a  woman  who 
really  loved  would  lose  sight  of  all  selfishness  and  little- 
ness and  jealousy  just  because  of  the  strength  of  her 
love." 

He  turned  and  looked  straight  into  her  eyes. 

"And  if  I  were  to  tell  Cecil  that  I  loved  her,  do  you 
think  she  would  at  any  rate  listen  to  me  ? " 

' '  I  am  not  going  to  say  '  yes  'or  '  no '  to  that  question, " 
said  Sigrid,  suddenly  bending  forward  and  giving  him  a 
kiss — a  salute  almost  unknown  between  a  Norwegian 
brother  and  sister.  "But  I  will  say  instead,  'Go  and 
try." 

"You  think  then " 

She  sprang  to  her  feet. 

"  I  don't  think  at  all,"  she  said  laughingly.  "Good- 
bye, lam  going  to  meet  the  others  at  the  Mongefos,  and 
you — you  are  going  back  to  Horgheim.  Adjo. " 

She  waved  her  hand  to  him  and  walked  resolutely  away. 
He  watched  her  out  of  sight,  then  fell  back  again  to  his 
former  position  on  the  grass,  and  thought.  She  had  told 
him  nothing  and  yet  somehow  had  brought  to  him  a 
most  wonderful  sense  of  rest  and  peace. 

Presently  he  got  up,  and  began  to  retrace  his  steps 
along  the  valley. 


A  HARDY  HORSEMAN.  373 


CHAPTER   XL. 

THE  afternoon  was  not  so  clear  as  the  morning  had 
been,  yet  it  had  a  beauty  of  its  own  which  appealed  to 
Frithiof  very  strongly.  The  blue  sky  had  changed  to  a 
soft  pearly  gray,  all  round  him  rose  grave,  majestic  moun- 
tains, their  summits  clear  against  the  pale  background, 
but  wreaths  of  white  mist  clinging  about  their  sides  in 
fantastic  twists  and  curves  which  bridged  over  huge  yawn- 
ing chasms  and  seemed  to  join  the  valley  into  a  great  am- 
phitheatre. The  stern  gray  and  purple  rocks  looked 
hardly  real,  so  softened  were  they  by  the  luminous  sum- 
mer haze.  Here  and  there  the  white  snow  gleamed 
coldly  in  long  deep  crevices,  or  in  broad  clefts  where 
from  year's  end  to  year's  end  it  remained  unmelted  by 
sun  or  rain.  On  each  side  of  the  road  there  was  a  wilder- 
ness of  birch  and  fir  and  juniper  bushes,  while  in  the  far 
distance  could  be  heard  the  Mongefos  with  its  ceaseless 
sound  of  many  waters,  repeated  on  either  hand  by  the 
smaller  waterfalls.  Other  sound  there  was  none  save  the 
faint  tinkle  of  cowbells  or  the  rare  sound  of  the  little 
black  and  while  wagtails,  which  seemed  the  only  birds  in 
the  valley. 

Suddenly  he  perceived  a  little  further  along  the  road  a 
slim  figure  leaning  against  the  fence,  the  folds  of  a  blue 
dress,  the  gleam  of  light-brown  hair  under  a  sealskin  trav- 
eling cap.  His  heart  began  to  beat  fast,  he  strode  on 
more  quickly,  and  Cecil,  hearing  footsteps,  looked  up. 

"  I  had  finished  my  letter  and  thought  I  would  come 
out  to  explore  a  little,"  she  said,  as  he  joined  her.  "You 
have  come  back  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  have  come  back  to  you." 

She  glanced  at  him  questioningly,  startled  by  his  tone, 
but  before  his  eager  look  her  eyelids  dropped,  and  a  soft 
glow  of  color  suffused  her  face. 

"Cecil,"  he  said,  "do  you  remember  what  you  said 
years  ago  about  men  who  worked  hard  to  make  their  for- 
tune and  then  retired  and  were  miserable  because  they 
had  nothing  to  do  ?  " 

"Oh  yes,"  she  said,  "I  remember  it  very  well,  and 
have  often  seen  instances  of  it." 


374  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN: 

"I  am  like  that  now,"  he  continued.  "My  work 
seems  over,  and  I  stand  at  the  threshold  of  a  new  life. 
It  was  you  who  saved  me  from  ruin  in  my  old  life — will 
you  be  my  helper  now  ? " 

"  Do  you  think  I  really  could  help  ?  "  she  said,  wistfully. 

He  looked  at  her  gentle  eyes,  at  her  pure,  womanly 
face,  and  he  knew  that  his  life  was  in  her  hands. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  he  said,  gravely.  "It  depends  on 
whether  you  could  love  me — whether  you  will  let  me 
speak  of  my  love  for  you." 

Then,  as  he  paused,  partly  because  his  English  words 
would  not  come  very  readily,  partly  in  hope  of  some  sign 
of  encouragement  from  her,  she  turned  to  him  with  a 
face  which  shone  with  heavenly  light. 

"There  must  never  be  any  secrets  between  us, "she 
said,  speaking  quite  simply  and  directly.  "I  have 
loved  you  ever  since  you  first  came  to  us — years  ago." 

It  was  nothing  to  Frithiof  that  they  were  standing  at 
the  side  of  the  king's  highway — he  had  lost  all  sense  of 
time  and  place — the  world  only  contained  for  him  the 
woman  who  loved  him — the  woman  who  let  him  clasp 
her  in  his  strong  arm — let  him  press  her  sweet  face  to  his. 

And  still  from  the  distance  came  the  sound  of  many 
waters,  and  the  faint  tinkle  of  the  cowbells  and  the  song 
of  the  little  black  and  white  birds.  The  grave  gray  moun- 
tains seemed  like  strong  and  kindly  friends  who  sheltered 
them  and  shut  them  in  from  all  intrusion  of  the  outer 
world,  but  they  were  so  entirely  absorbed  in  each  other 
that  they  had  not  a  thought  for  anything  else. 

"With  you  I  shall  have  courage  to  begin  life  afresh," 
he  said,  after  a  time.  "To  have  the  right  to  love  you — 
to  be  always  with  you — that  will  be  everything  to  me." 

And  then,  as  he  thought  of  her  true-hearted  confession, 
he  tried  to  understand  a  little  better  the  unseen  ordering 
of  his  life,  and  he  loved  to  think  that  those  weary  years 
had  been  wasted  neither  on  him  nor  on  Cecil  herself.  He 
could  not  for  one  moment  doubt  that  her  pure,  unselfish 
love  had  again  and  again  shielded  him  from  evil,  that  all 
through  his  English  life,  with  its  hard  struggles  and  bitter 
sufferings,  her  love  had  in  some  unknown  way  been  his 
safeguard,  and  that  his  life,  crippled  by  the  faithlessness 
of  a  woman,  had  by  a  woman  also  been  redeemed.  All 
his  old  morbid  craving  for  death  had  gone  ;  he  eagerly 
desired  a  long  life,  that  he  might  live  with  her,  work  for 


375 

her,  shield  her  from  care,  fill  up,  to  the  best  of  his  power, 
what  was  incomplete  in  her  life. 

"I  shall  have  a  postscript  to  add  to  my  letter,"  said 
Cecil,  presently,  looking  up  at  him  with  the  radiant  smile 
which  he  so  loved  to  see  on  her  lips.  "What  a  very  fem- 
inine one  it  will  be  !  We  say,  you  know,  in  England, 
that  a  woman's  postscript  is  the  most  important  part  of 
her  letter. " 

"  Will  your  father  and  mother  ever  spare  you  to  me? " 
said  Frithiof. 

"They  will  certainly  welcome  you  as  their  son,"  she 
replied. 

"And  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Horner?"  suggested  Frithiof, 
mischievously. 

But  at  the  thought  of  the  consternation  of  her  worthy 
cousins  Cecil  could  do  nothing  but  laugh. 

"Never  mind,"  she  said,  "they  have  always  disap- 
proved of  me  as  much  as  they  have  of  you  ;  they  will 
perhaps  say  that  it  is,  after  all,  a  highly  suitable  arrange- 
ment !  " 

"  I  wonder  whether  Swanhild  will  say  the  same  ? "  said 
Frithiof,  with  a  smile  ;  "here  she  comes,  hurrying  home 
alone.  Will  you  wait  by  the  river  and  let  me  just  tell  her 
my  good  news?  " 

He  walked  along  the  road  to  meet  his  sister,  who, 
spite  of  added  years  and  inches,  still  retained  much  of  her 
childlikeness. 

"  Why  are  you  all  alone  ?  "  he  said. 

"Oh,  three  is  no  ftm,"  said  Swanhild.  "When  Roy 
and  Sigrid  are  out  on  a  holiday  they  are  just  like  lovers, 
so  I  came  back  to  you." 

"What  will  you  say  when  I  tell  you  that  I  an>  be- 
trothed," he  said,  teasingly. 

She  looked  up  in  his  face  with  some  alarm. 

"  You  are  only  making  fun  of  me,"  she  protested. 

"On  the  contrary,  I  am  stating  the  most  serious  of 
facts.  Come,  I  want  your  congratulations." 

"But  who  are  you  betrothed  to?"  asked  Swanhild,  be- 
wildered. "Can  it  be  to  Madale  ?  And,  oh  dear,  what 
a  horrid  time  to  choose  for  it — you  will  be  just  no  good  at 
all.  I  really  do  think  you  might  have  waited  till  the  end 
of  the  tour. " 

"It  might  possibly  have  been  managed  if  you   had 


376  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

spoken  sooner,"  said  Frithiof,  with  mock  gravity,  "but 
you  come  too  late — the  deed  is  done.'' 

"Well,  I  shall  have  Cecil  to  talk  to,  so  after  all  it 
doesn't  much  matter,"  said  Swanhild,  graciously. 

"But,  unfortunately,  she  also  has  become  betrothed," 
said  Frithiof,  watching-  the  bewildered  little  face  with 
keen  pleasure,  and  seeing  the  light  of  perception  suddenly 
dawn  on  it. 

Swanhild  caught  his  hand  in  hers. 

"  You  don't  mean "  she  began. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Frithiof,  "  but  I  do  mean  it  very  much 
indeed.  Come,"  and  he  hurried  her  down  the  grassy 
slope  to  the  river.  "I  shall  tell  Cecil  every  word  you 
have  been  saying."  Then,  as  she  rose  to  meet  them,  he 
said  with  a  laugh,  "This  selfish  child  thinks  we  might 
have  put  it  off  till  the  end  of  the  tour  for  her  special 
benefit." 

"No,  no,"  cried  Swanhild,  flying  towards  Cecil  with 
outstretched  arms.  "I  never  knew  it  was  to  you  he  was 
betrothed — and  you  could  never  be  that  horrid,  moony 
kind  who  are  always  sitting  alone  together  in  corners." 

At  which  ingenuous  congratulation  they  all  laughed  so 
immoderately  that  Mons  Horgheim  the  cat  was  roused 
from  his  afternoon  nap  on  the  steps  of  the  station,  and 
after  a  preliminary  stretch  strolled  down  toward  the  river  to 
see  what  was  the  matter,  and  to  bring  the  sobriety  and 
accumulated  wisdom  of  his  fourteen  years  to  bear  upon 
the  situation. 

"Ah,  well,"  said  Swanhild,  with  a  comical  gesture, 
"there  is  clearly  nothing  for  me  but,  as  they  say  in  Italy, 
to  stay  at  home  and  nurse  the  cat." 

And  catching  up  the  astonished  Mons,  she  danced  away, 
eager  to  be  the  first  to  tell  the  good  news  to  Roy  and 
Sigrid. 

"It  will  be  really  very  convenient,"  she  remarked,  to 
the  infinite  amusement  of  her  elders.  "We  shall  not 
lose  Frithiof  at  all ;  he  will  only  have  to  move  across  to 
Rowan  Tree  House." 

And  ultimately  that  was  how  matters  arranged  them- 
selves, so  that  the  house  which  had  sheltered  Frithiof  in 
his  time  of  trouble  became  his  home  in  this  time  of  his 
prosperity. 

He  had  not  rushed  all  at  once  into  full  light  and  com- 
plete manhood  and  lasting  happiness.  Very  slowly,  very 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN:  377 

gradually,  the  life  that  had  been  plunged  in  darkness  had 
emerged  into  faint  twilight  as  he  had  struggled  to  redeem 
jiis  father's  name;  then,  by  degrees,  the  brightness  of 
dawn  had  increased,  and,  sometimes  helped,  sometimes 
hindered  by  the  lives  which  had  come  into  contact  with 
his  own,  he  had  at  length  emerged  into  clearer  light,  till, 
after  long  waiting,  the  sun  had  indeed  risen. 

As  Swanhild  had  prophesied,  they  were  by  no  means 
selfish  lovers,  and,  far  from  spoiling  the  tour,  their  hap- 
piness did  much  to  add  to  its  success. 

Cecil  hardly  knew  which  part  of  it  was  most  delightful 
to  her,  the  return  to  Molde  and  the  pilgrimage  to  the 
quaint  little  jeweler's  shop  where  they  chose  two  plain 
gold  betrothal  rings  such  as  are  always  used  in  Norway ; 
or  the  merry  journey  to  the  Geiranger ;  or  the  quiet  days 
at  Oldoren,  in  that  lovely  valley  with  the  river  curving 
and  bending  its  way  between  wooded  banks,  and  the 
rampart  of  grand,  craggy  mountains,  with  snowy  peaks, 
her  own  special  mountain,  as  Frithiof  called  Cecilien- 
krone,  dominating  all. 

It  was  at  Oldoren  that  she  saw  for  the  first  time  one  of 
the  prettiest  sights  in  Norway — a  country  wedding.  The 
charming  bride,  Pernilla,  in  her  silver-gilt  crown  and 
bridal  ornaments,  had  her  heartiest  sympathy,  and  Frithiof, 
happening  to  catch  sight  of  the  fiddler  standing  idly  by 
the  churchyard  gate  when  the  ceremony  was  over,  brought 
him  into  the  hotel  and  set  every  one  dancing.  Anna 
Rasmusen,  the  clever  and  -harming  manager  of  the  inn, 
volunteered  to  try  the  spring  dans  with  Halfstan,  the 
guide.  The  hamlet  was  searched  for  dancers  of  the  hall- 
ing,  and  the  women  showed  them  the  pretty  jelster  and 
the  tretur. 

By  degrees  all  the  population  of  the  place  crowded  in 
as  spectators,  and  soon  Johannes  and  Pernilla,  the  bride 
and  bridegroom,  made  their  way  through  the  throng,  and, 
each  carrying  a  decanter,  approached  the  visitors,  shook 
hands  with  them,  and  begged  that  they  would  drink  their 
health.  There  was  something  strangely  simple  and  charm- 
ing about  the  "-hole  thing.  Such  a  scene  could  have  been 
found  in  no  other  country  save  in  grand,  free  old  Norway, 
where  false  standards  of  worth  are  abolished,  and  where 
mutual  respect  and  equal  rights  bind  each  to  each  in  true 
brotherhood. 

The  day  after  the  wedding  they  spent  at  the  Brixdals 


378  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN: 

glacier,  rowing  all  together  up  the  lake,  but  afterward 
separating,  Frithiof  and  Cecil  walking  in  advance  of  the 
others  up  the  beautiful  valley. 

"There  will  soon  be  a  high-road  to  this  glacier,"  said 
Frithiof,  "but  I  am  glad  they  are  only  beginning  it  now, 
and  that  we  have  this  rough  path." 

And  Cecil  was  glad  too.  She  liked  the  scramble  and 
the  little  bit  of  climbing  needed  here  and  there  ;  she  loved 
to  feel  the  strength  and  protection  of  Frithiof  s  hand  as  he 
led  her  over  the  rocks  and  bowlders.  At  last,  after  along 
walk,  they  reached  a  smooth,  grassy  oasis,  shaded  by 
silver  birches  and  bordered  by  a  river  ;  beyond,  the  Brix- 
dalsbrae  gleamed  white  through  the  trees,  with  here  and 
there  exquisite  shades  of  blue  visible  in  the  ice  even  at  that 
distance. 

"  This  is  just  like  the  land  of  Beulah,"  said  Cecil,  smil- 
ing, "and  the  glacier  is  the  celestial  city.  How  wonder- 
ful those  broken  pinnacles  of  ice  are  !  " 

"  Look  at  these  two  little  streams  running  side  by  side 
for  so  long  and  at  last  joining, "said  Frithiof.  "  They  are 
like  our  two  lives.  For  so  many  years  you  have  been  to 
me  as  we  should  say,  fortrolig. " 

"  What  does  that  mean  ? "  she  asked. 

"It  is  untranslatable,"  he  said.  "It  is  that  in  which 
one  puts  one's  trust  and  confidence,  but  more  besides. 
It  means  exactly  what  you  have  always  been  to  me." 

Cecil  Ipoked  down  at  the  little  bunch  of  forget-me-nots 
and  lilies  of  the  valley — the  Norwegian  national  flowers 
with  which  Frithiof  loved  to  keep  her  supplied — and 
the  remembrance  of  all  that  she  had  borne  during  these 
five  years  came  back  to  her,  and  by  contrast  made  the 
happy  present  yet  sweeter. 

"I  think,"  she  said,  "I  should  like  Signer  Donati  to 
know  of  our  happiness  ;  he  was  the  first  who  quite  un- 
derstood you." 

"Yes,  I  must  write  to  him,"  said  Frithiof.  "There  is 
no  man  to  whom  I  owe  more." 

And  thinking  of  the  Italian's  life  and  character  and  of 
his  own  past,  he  grew  silent. 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  said  at  length,  "  there  is  one  thing 
I  want  you  to  do  for  me.  I  want  you  to  give  me  back 
my  regard  for  the  Sogne  once  more.  I  want,  on  our  way 
home,  just  to  pass  Balholm  again." 

And  so  one  day  it  happened  that  they  found  them- 


A  HARDY  NORSE  MA  M  379 

selves  on  the  well-remembered  fjord,  and  coming  up  on 
deck  when  dinner  was  over,  saw  that  already  the  familiar 
scenes  of  the  Frithiof  saga  were  coming  into  view. 

"Look  !  look!  "  said  Frithiof.  "There,  far  in  front  of 
us  is  the  Kvinnafos,  looking  like  a  thread  of  white  on  the 
dark  rock  ;  and  over  to  the  right  is  Framnaes  !  " 

Cecil  stood  beside  him  on  the  upper  deck,  and  gradually 
the  scene  unfolded.  They  saw  the  little  wooded  penin- 
sula, the  lovely  mountains  round  the  Fjaerlands  fjord, 
Munkeggen  itself,  with  much  more  snow  than  during 
their  last  visit,  and  then,  once  again,  King  Bele's  grave, 
and  the  scattered  cottages,  with  their  red-tiled  roofs,  and 
the  familiar  hotel,  somewhat  enlarged,  vet  recalling  a 
hundred  memories. 

Gravely  and  thoughtfully  Frithiof  looktl  on  the  little 
hamlet  and  on  Munkeggen.  It  was  a  picture  that  had  been 
traced  on  his  mind  by  pleasure  and  engraved  by  pain. 
Cecil  drew  a  little  nearer  to  him,  and  though  no  word 
passed  between  them,  yet  intuitively  their  thoughts  turned 
to  one  who  must  forever  be  associated  with  those  bright 
days  spent  in  the  house  of  Ole  Kvikne  long  ago.  There 
was  no  indignation  in  their  thoughts  of  her,  but  there  was 
pain,  and  pity,  and  hope,  and  the  love  which  is  at  once 
the  source  and  the  outcome  of  forgiveness.  They  won- 
dered much  how  matters  stood  with  her  out  in  the  far-off 
southern  seas,  where  she  struggled  on  in  a  new  life,  which 
must  always,  to  the  very  end,  be  shadowed  by  the  old. 
And  then  Frithiof  thought  of  his  father,  of  his  own  youth, 
of  the  wonderful  glamour  and  gladness  that  had  been 
doomed  so  soon  to  pass  into  total  eclipse,  and  feeling  like 
some  returned  ghost,  he  glided  close  by  the  flagstaff,  and 
the  gray  rocks,  and  the  trees  which  had  sheltered  his 
farewell  to  Blanche.  A  strange  and  altogether  indescrib- 
able feeling  stole  over  him,  but  it  was  speedily  dispelled. 
There  was  a  link  which  happily  bound  his  past  to  his 
present — a  memory  which  nothing  could  spoil — on  the 
quay  he  instantly  perceived  the  well-remembered  faces  of 
the  kindly  landlord,  Ole  Kvikne,  and  his  brother  Knut. 

"See!"  he  exclaimed  with  a  smile,  "there  are  the 
Kviknes,  looking  not  a  day  older  !  We  must  just  see  if 
they  remember  us." 

Did  they  not  remember?  Of  course  they  did!  And 
what  bowing  and  hand-shaking  went  on  in  the  brief  wait- 
ing time.  They  had  heard  of  Frithiof,  moreover,  and 


380  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

knew  how  nobly  he  had  redeemed  his  father's  name.  They 
were  enchanted  at  meeting-  him  once  more. 

"Let  me  have  the  pleasure,  Kvikne,  to  introduce  you 
to  my  betrothed,  who  was  also  your  guest  long  ago," 
said  Frithiof,  taking  Cecil's  hand  and  placing  it  in  that  of 
the  landlord. 

And  the  warm  congratulations  and  hearty  good  wishes 
of  Ole  and  Knut  Kvikne  were  only  cut  short  by  the  bell, 
which  warned  the  travelers  that  they  must  hasten  up  the 
gangway. 

"We  shall  come  back,"  said  Frithiof.  "  Another  sum- 
mer we  shall  stay  with  you." 

"Yes," said  Cecil.  "After  all  there  is  nothing  equal  to 
Balholm.  I  had  forgotten  how  lovely  it  was." 

As  they  glided  on  they  left  the  little  place  bathed  in 
sunshine,  and  in  silence  they  watched  it,  till  at  last  a 
bend  in  the  fjord  hid  it  from  view. 

Frithiof  fell  into  deep  thought. 

What  part  had  that  passionate  first  love  of  his  played 
in  his  life-story  ?  Well,  it  had  been  to  him  a  curse  ;  it  had 
dragged  him  down  into  depths  of  despair  and  to  the  verge 
of  vice  ;  it  had  steeped  him  in  bitterness  and  filled  his  heart 
with  anguish.  Yet  a  more  perfect  love  had  awaited  him 
— a  passion  less  fierce  but  more  tender,  less  vehement  but 
more  lasting  ;  and  all  those  years  Cecil's  heart  had  really 
been  his,  though  he  had  so  little  dreamed  of  it. 

As  if  in  a  picture,  he  saw  the  stages  through  which  he 
had  passed — the  rapture  of  mere  physical  existence  ;  the 
intolerable  pain  and  humiliation  of  Blanche's  betrayal  ; 
the  anguish  of  bereavement ;  the  shame  of  bankruptcy  ; 
the  long  effort  to  pay  the  debts  ;  the  slow  return  to  belief 
in  human  beings  ;  the  toilsome  steps  that  had  each  brought 
him  a  clearer  knowledge  of  the  Unseen,  for  which  he  had 
once  felt  no  need  ;  and,  finally,  this  wonderful  love  spring- 
ing up  like  a  fountain  in  his  life,  ready  to  gladden  his 
somewhat  prosaic  round  of  daily  work. 

It  was  evening  when  they  left  the  steamer  at  Sogndal, 
but  they  were  none  of  them  in  a  mood  for  settling  down, 
and  indeed  the  weather  was  so  hot  that  they  often  pre- 
ferred traveling  after  supper.  So  it  was  arranged  that 
they  should  go  on  to  a  very  primitive  little  place  called 
Hillestad,  sleep  there  for  a  few  hours,  and  then  proceed 
to  the  Lyster  fjord.  Cecil,  who  was  a  much  better  walker 
than  either  Sigrid  or  Swanhild,  was  to  go  on  foot  with 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN,  381 

Frithiof;  the  others  secured  a  stolkjaerre  and  a  carriole, 
and  went  on  in  advance  with  the  luggage. 

The  two  lovers  walked  briskly  along  the  side  of  the  fjord, 
but  slackened  their  pace  when  they  reached  the  long,  sandy 
hill,  with  its  sharp  zigzags ;  the  evening  was  still  and 
cloudless  ;  above  them  towered  huge,  rocky  cliffs,  partly 
veiled  by  undergrowth,  and  all  the  air  was  sweet  with  the 
scent  of  the  pine  trees.  They  were  close  to  St.  Olafs 
well,  where,  from  time  immemorial,  the  country  people 
have  come  to  drink  and  pray  for  recovery  from  illness. 

"Don't  you  think  we  ought  to  drink  to  my  future 
health,"  said  Frithiof. 

He  smiled,  yet  in  his  eyes  she  saw  all  the  time  the 
look  of  sadness  that  had  come  to  him  as  they  approached 
Balholm. 

The  one  sting  in  his  perfect  happiness  was  the  thought 
that  he  could  not  bring  to  Cecil  the  unbroken  health  that 
had  once  been  his.  He  knew  that  the  strain  of  his  past 
trouble  had  left  upon  him  marks  which  he  must  carry  to 
his  grave,  and  that  the  consequences  of  Blanche's  faith- 
lessness had  brought  with  them  a  secret  anxiety  which 
must  to  some  extent  shadow  Cecil's  life.  The  knowledge 
was  hard  ;  it  humiliated  him. 

Cecil  knew  him  so  well  that  she  read  his  thoughts  in 
an  instant. 

"Look  at  all  these  little  crosses  set  up  in  the  moss  on 
this  rock  !  "  she  exclaimed  when  they  had  scrambled  up 
the  steep  ascent.  "I  wonder  how  many  hundreds  of 
years  this  has  been  the  custom  ?  I  wonder  how  many 
troubled  people  have  come  here  to  drink  ?  " 

"And  have  gained  nothing  by  their  superstition  ?  "  said 
Frithiof. 

"  It  was  superstition,  "she  said  thoughtfully.  "And  yet, 
perhaps,  the  sight  of  the  cross  and  the  drinking  of  the 
water  at  least  helped  them  to  new  thoughts  of  suffering 
and  of  life.  Who  knows,  perhaps  some  of  them  went 
away  able  to  glory  in  their  infirmities?  " 

He  did  not  speak  for  some  minutes,  but  stood  lost  in 
the  train  of  thought  suggested  to  him  by  her  words.  The 
sadness  gradually  died  out  of  his  face,  and  she  quite  un- 
derstood that  it  was  with  no  trace  of  superstition,  but 
merely  as  a  sign  of  gratitude  for  a  thought  which  had 
helped  him,  that  he  took  two  little  straight  twigs,  stooped 
to  drink  from  St.  Olafskilde,  and  then  set  up  his  cross 


382  A  HARDY  NORSEMAN. 

among  the  others  in  the  mossy  wall.  After  that  they 
clambered  down  over  the  bowlders  into  the  sandy  road 
once  more,  and  climbed  the  steep  hill  leisurely,  planning 
many  things  for  the  future — the  rooms  in  Rowan  Tree 
House,  the  little  wooden  cottage  that  they  meant  to  build 
at  Godesund,  three  hours  by  water  from  Bergen,  on  a 
tiny  island,  which  might  be  bought  at  a  trifling  cost  ; 
the  bright  holiday  weeks  that  they  would  spend  there  ; 
the  work  they  might  share ;  the  efforts  they  might  make 
together  in  their  London  life. 

But  the  sharp  contrast  between  this  pictured  future  and 
the  actual  past  could  hardly  fail  to  strike  one  of  Frithiof  s 
temperament ;  it  was  the  thought  of  this  which  prompted 
him  to  speak  as  they  paused  to  rest  on  the  wooded 
heights  above  Hillestad. 

"I  almost  wonder,"  he  said,  "that  you  have  courage 
to  marry  such  an  ill-starred  fellow  as  I  have  always 
proved  to  be.  You  are  very  brave  to  take  the  risk." 

She  answered  him  only  with  her  eyes. 

"So,"  he  said  with  a  smile,  "  you  think,  perhaps,  after 
all  the  troubles  there  must  be  a  good  time  coming  ?  " 

"That  may  very  well  be,"  she  replied,  "but  now  that 
we  belong  to  each  other  outer  things  matter  little." 

"  Do  you  remember  the  lines  about  Norway  in  the 
Princess  ? "  he  said.  "  Your  love  has  made  them  true  for 
me." 

"  Say  them  now,"  she  said  ;   "I  have  forgotten." 

And,  looking  out  over  the  ruddy  sky  where,  in  this 
night  hour,  the  glow  of  sunset  mingled  with  the  glow  of 
dawn,  he  quoted  the  words  : 

"  I  was  one 

To  whom  the  touch  of  all  mischance  but  came 
As  night  to  him  that  sitting  on  a  hill 
Sees  the  midsummer,  midnight,  Norway  sun 
Set  into  sunrise." 

She  followed  the  direction  of  his  gaze  and  looked,  through 
the  fir-trees  on  the  hill  upon  which  they  were  resting, 
down  to  the  lovely  lake  which  lay  below  them  like  a 
sheet  of  mother-of-pearl  in  the  tranquil  light.  She  looked 
beyond  to  the  grand  cliff-like  mountains  with  their  snowy 
tops  touched  here  and  there  into  the  most  exquisite  rose- 
color  by  the  rising  sun  ;  and  then  she  turned  back  to  the 
strong  Norse  face  with  its  clearly-cut  features,  its  look  of 
strength,  and  independence,  and  noble  courage,  and  her 


A  HARDY  NORSEMAN.  383 

heart  throbbed  with  joy  as  she  thought  how  foreign  to  it 
was  that  hard,  bitter  expression  of  the  past.  As  he  re- 
peated the  words  "  Set  into  sunrise  "  his  eyes  met  hers 
fully  ;  all  the  tenderness  and  strength  of  his  nature  and 
an  infinite  promise  of  future  possibilities  seemed  to  strike 
down  into  her  very  soul  in  that  glance.  He  drew  her 
towards  him,  and  over  both  of  them  there  stole  .the 
strange  calm  which  is  sometimes  the  outcome  of  strong 
feeling. 

All  nature  seemed  full  of  perfect  peace  ;  and  with  the 
sight  of  those  snowy  mountains  and  the  familiar  scent  of 
the  pines  to  tell  him  that  he  was  indeed  in  his  own  coun- 
try, with  Cecil's  loving  presence  to  assure  him  of  his  new 
possession,  and  with  a  peace  in  his  heart  which  had  first 
come  to  him  in  bitter  humiliation  and  trouble,  Frithiof, 
too,  was  at  rest. 

After  all,  what  were  the  possible  trials  that  lay  before 
them  ?  What  was  all  earthly  pain  ?  Looked  at  in  a  true 
light,  suffering  seemed,  indeed,  but  as  this  brief  northern 
night,  and  death  but  as  the  herald  of  eternal  day. 

"Cecil, "said  Frithiof,  looking  again  into  her  sweet, 
grave  eyes,  "who  would  have  thought  that  the  Linncea 
gathered  all  those  years  ago  should  prove  the  first  link  in 
the  chain  that  was  to  bind  us  together  forever  ?  " 

"It  was  strange,"  she  replied,  with  a  smile,  as  she 
gathered  one  of  the  long  trails  growing  close  by  and  looked 
at  the  lovely  little  white  bells  with  their  pink  veins. 

He  took  it  from  her,  and  began  to  twine  it  in  her  hair. 

"  I  didn't  expect  to  find  it  here,"  he  said,  "and  brought 
a  fine  plant  of  it  from  Nord  fjord.  We  must  take  it  home 
with  us  that  you  may  have  some  for  your  bridal  wreath." 

She  made  a  little  exclamation  of  doubt. 

"  Why,  Frithiof?  How  long  do  you  think  it  will  go  on 
flowering  ?  " 

"For  another  month,"  he  said,  taking  her  glowing 
face  between  his  hands  and  stooping  to  kiss  her. 

"Only  a  month  !  "  she  faltered. 

"Surely  that  will  be  long  enough  to  read  the  banns?  " 
he  said  with  a  smile.  "  And  you  really  ought  not  to  keep 
the  Linncea  waiting  a  day  longer." 

THE  END. 


LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000126893     7 


